


Asking The Moon To Stay

by bugmadoo



Series: Royals [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Emmerdale Big Bang Round 1, Fluff, Homophobic Language, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Modern Royalty, Pillow Talk, Princes & Princesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugmadoo/pseuds/bugmadoo
Summary: All his life Prince Robert had known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps and become King of Emmerdale. What he never expected was that he would have a secret love affair with the court's mechanic Aaron Dingle.





	Asking The Moon To Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Here's it is!! My contribution for this round of the Emmerdale Big Bang! There are some people I need to thank because without them I would have gone insane while writing this so thanks to Ellie (for being my beta for this beast), Claudia (for being my guru for All Things Royalty) and Taryn (for the cheerleading!!).
> 
> An even bigger thank you to my artist Cora for the [super cool gifset for this fic](http://dingleminyard.tumblr.com/post/164909095711/emmerdale-big-bang-asking-the-moon-to-stay-by) and for being my writing cheerleader Number 2. 
> 
> Now to the last point: the title of this fic is taken from Grace by Jeff Buckley.
> 
> Enjoy!

The polished wood of the handrail is cold under Robert’s fingers as he walks down the stairs of the staircase in the east wing.

He passes a heavy wooden double door that signals the first floor of the basement and keeps going. With every step that he walks deeper beneath the castle, the air smells more and more like the unmistakable scent of motor oil, leather and exhaust fumes. It’s probably not exactly healthy, but he still inhales deeply when he reaches the bottom step. This time a single metal door with a -2 written on it greets him and he pauses for a moment before he pulls it open.

Walking through it, the smell assaults his nostrils again, this time a lot more concentrated than before. It’s true that scent triggers memories and emotions unlike anything else, because Robert’s chest expands in excitement and anticipation, filling him to the brim until he feels he might choke on it.

He takes a deep breath and digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the sound of his steps echoing around the empty parking lot, motion-activated lights flickering on when Robert passes. The light brown leather of his shoes stands out against the pitch black of the tar below him and he can’t really tear his eyes away from the combination as he silently counts the steps from door to the garage. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a twinkling reflection of light, and when he looks up he’s surprised by the sight of a car he hasn’t seen before, standing in front of the far wall of the parking lot.  He can’t properly tell the make from where he’s standing but it looks old – old enough to be interesting. Robert is tempted to walk over and take a proper look at it, but it’s late already and he doesn’t want to waste even more time.

At the end of the parking lot are two doors. The right one leads to a hallway with two elevators and then yet another garage for high-ranking guests of the king and the royal family. Robert doesn’t pay that one any attention, but knocks on the left door instead. He doesn’t wait and opens it before any reply comes from the other side.

He enters the office of the garage and the corner of his mouth lift at the familiarity of it. There are papers scattered everywhere on the desk, dirty mugs of tea standing on a filing cabinet, and a jacket carelessly thrown over the back of the office chair, looking as if it’s going to fall on the floor at any second. Robert picks it up, finds the shoulders and hangs it up properly. It’s not the first time he’s had to do it and he smiles with the memory of the first time he did it, then he takes off his own jacket and puts it on top of the other one. He turns around, locks the door he came through, kills the light in the small room just to be extra cautious, and finally leaves the office.

Walking through the open door, Robert’s head is already turned to the left and just like he knew he would, his eyes find Aaron like a compass that reliably points towards him. For the first time that day the smile on Robert’s face isn’t forced but starts blooming from all the way down in his chest.

Aaron is leaning over the motor of a car, hood popped open, a dirty rag thrown over his shoulder, and his arms moving in a way that tells Roberts that Aaron is trying to unscrew something. The view of Aaron’s back and ass on display like this is enough for Robert to not even check which car Aaron is working on, not that Robert would admit to it if Aaron asked.

Aaron doesn’t react at all when Robert leans against the wall next to the car in a place where Aaron would definitely be able to see him in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. Robert is late, half an hour past their usual time, and Aaron is punishing him for it in the easiest way he knows how. Usually, it comes down to which one of them is less patient on that particular day. It’s a game they play almost every time.

It’s also a game Robert normally loses since Aaron can be a lot more stubborn than Robert has the energy to be when it comes to Aaron. Aaron likes to remind him of that fact which always ends in Robert screaming blue murder that Aaron simply plays an unfair game, but in the silence between them, Robert can admit that he just likes this part of his day too much to wait for it for long. He likes to think that Aaron feels the same way.  

Robert crosses his arms and stares at Aaron working. In his head the two of them are already wearing a lot less clothes and are standing a lot closer, the phantom taste of Aaron like a breeze on his lips. Robert’s vision blurs as the images fill his head, his fingers scraping over Aaron’s beard, rough and electric under his fingers, and then kissing that spot on Aaron’s neck where he’s ticklish. He thinks about pulling down Aaron’s overall just enough to not be in the way later, the colour of Aaron’s skin when the muscles of his shoulders move underneath it, the quiet sighs of pleasure he does.

He is so deep into his fantasy that he jumps when Aaron suddenly starts talking. “Give me that wrench over there, would you?”

Aaron is pointing at a small tool lying next to the left front tire of the car and Robert smirks as he bends down and picks it up. He holds out the wrench for Aaron to take when their eyes meet and their fingers touch. It’s awfully sentimental of him, but for a split second he considers holding on just so that their skin can stay in contact for longer. He tells himself that he’s not that soppy and lets the wrench go. Robert crosses his arms but stays where he is, hip leaning against the driver’s door, and settles to watch Aaron work.

Experience has taught him that it’s always better for him to wait for Aaron to initiate the conversation because every one of Robert’s attempts usually backfires more or less spectacularly. Robert doesn’t mind the silence when he’s with Aaron since it’s a welcome contrast to the rest of his noisy days. Silences with Aaron feel comfortable and filled with unspoken sentiments, like a choice they both make, instead of a lack of words.

Aaron is currently fiddling with a valve as far as Robert can tell, still bent over the bonnet, his blue gloves turned black from grease, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. It seems like whatever Aaron is doing doesn’t seem to work and Robert almost offers his help, but he bites his lip to hold the words back. Only a few seconds later Aaron breathes a relieved _finally_ and straightens his back.

He throws a glance at Robert, his face unchanging, while he peels off his gloves and puts them in the pocket of his overall. Then he yanks the rag from over his shoulder and drapes it over the popped-up hood of the car. Only then does Aaron finally turn towards Robert, copying his position by crossing his arms, and meeting Robert’s eyes. Robert’s chest grows tight with how much he wants to cross the distance between them.

“You’re late.“

“I know.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow when Robert doesn’t continue. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“My only excuse is that it’s royal business and I know you don’t want to hear about that.”

The look that Aaron gives him is stern, bordering on condescending, his eyes roaming Robert’s face as if Aaron is looking for an answer to a question he’s not asking. Robert hopes Aaron finds what he’s looking for. It’s a moment later that Aaron speaks again.

“Word in the castle is you’re going to be a father to triplets.”

Robert raises his eyebrows. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it.”

“Doesn’t speak for your fatherly qualities, does it?” Aaron says. He tries to keep his face indifferent, but a smile ghosts over Aaron’s lips. It’s gone again in a blink, so fast that Robert doubts for a second if it was there at all, but Robert rarely ever forgets Aaron’s smiles.

“So who, pray tell, is gonna be the mother of my three children?”

“Tracy said she saw Leyla take a pregnancy test. Apparently she’s friends with one of the nurses at the hospital and she heard that Leyla’s expecting triplets.”

“Since when do you talk to Tracy?”

“I don’t. She was talking to my mum in the kitchen.”

Aaron shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. In any other circumstance, Robert would have laughed it off, since the rumour is by far not the most absurd one he’s ever heard about himself, but he thinks he sees Aaron’s repressed insecurity dancing on top of Aaron’s shoulders. That won’t do, Robert thinks.

“Oh,” Robert says, uncrossing his arms, “and you just couldn’t not listen in, could you?”

“You know how loud she is.” Aaron lifts his chin. “Everyone in a ten feet radius had to hear it.”

“So, I got Leyla, my personal assistant, pregnant?” Robert says and he can’t help the smirk when he takes a step closer to Aaron. “I think they might be confusing me with my brother.”

It’s enough that Aaron’s mask finally breaks, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. It makes Robert grin in return and he follows Aaron’s movements while he looks around the garage before his eyes land back on Robert.  

He takes another step towards Aaron and they’re close now, close enough that if Robert just lifted his hand he could touch him. Robert doesn’t, not yet, but he lets his eyes roam over every inch of Aaron’s face, checks if the image he conjured in his head during the last three days while he was away was as accurate as the reality presented in front of him. He saves Aaron’s eyes for last and as always, he drowns in them. They’re deep and blue, Aaron’s eyes, a shade he’s never seen on anybody before and a shade he’s never going to be able to see without thinking of Aaron. The contrast to the pink of Aaron’s lips is intoxicating and Robert forgets any reason he might have had for not already kissing Aaron.  

Slowly, as to not disturb to moment between them, Robert lifts his right hand and cups Aaron’s cheek. Aaron is already looking at Robert’s lips and when their lips finally touch Robert is smiling.

The peace of the moment extends, swelling and cresting and never breaking, just like their kiss. One of Aaron’s hands glides down along Robert’s arm, the touch so light it rouses goose bumps along Robert’s skin even through the fabric of his shirt. Encouraged, Robert kisses Aaron with intent. Their mouths open, and the touch and slide of tongue is all wet heat, welcome and familiar.

Aaron is the one to break the kiss. He pulls back and Robert watches as Aaron’s eyes dance over his face and Robert is pleased to see that Aaron’s eyes are a darker shade of blue than before. Robert tightens his hold around Aaron’s neck slightly and pulls him toward himself, their foreheads touching, sharing a breath and closing his eyes.

“I missed you,” Robert whispers because it’s a truth he’s been dealing with for the last three days that he’s been away.

Aaron nuzzles his nose against Robert’s in response. It’s enough that Robert knows Aaron felt the same.

“Alright?” Aaron asks, letting go of his grip on Robert’s upper arm and straightening his back.

“I am now,” Robert says, then grins when Aaron rolls his eyes. “You?”

“Yeah,” Aaron breathes, “as long as you don’t get any more people pregnant, that is.”

His voice sounds like Aaron is poking fun of the rumour but his facial expression makes Robert pause for a second. He gives Aaron a peck on the lips before he answers.

“I’m not kissing anyone other than you, let alone getting them pregnant.”

Aaron nods, looking at the floor. “I know.”

“If it’s true, though, I should already be looking for a replacement. I’m not going to be stuck with Debbie as my PA until Leyla’s back. Or even worse Tracy.” Robert’s eyebrows are raised high by the end of his sentence.

Aaron shakes his head and leans closer again, breath brushing over Robert’s face as he speaks. “You don’t have to do that now, though, do you?”

Instead of answering, Robert closes the distance between them, lips touching, a spark dancing from one pair of lips to the other, running down Robert’s spine. His hands fall into place on both sides of Aaron’s neck and he tries to pull him closer and closer and closer. They’re both breathing heavier, more intent behind the kiss, lips brushing, tongues dancing. Robert starts pushing Aaron back and it only takes a few steps until Robert has Aaron pressed against the wall of the garage, all the while never parting their lips from each other.

Sometimes Robert thinks this is what first started tying them together. Not the fantastic sex, not their fiery arguments, not the fact that they somehow completely understand each other without words, no. He thinks it’s got to be in their kisses.

 

+++

 

The glass doors leading out to the big balcony above the main entrance of the palace are closed, but the noise of the crowd outside is still thunderous. It makes everyone in the room talk louder than would usually be acceptable, although most guests are trying to be discreet about it. The room they’re in seems small, the ceiling a lot lower than in the other rooms, but there’s still space for the royal family and all their guests of honour.

Robert excuses himself from Leyla’s side and wanders across the room to the table with refreshments. His father is standing at one end of it, surrounded by his PA Frank Clayton, Prime Minister Harriet Finch and two men Robert quickly recognizes as a diplomat and a Member of Parliament. Robert isn’t interested in finding out what they are talking about and doesn’t listen in, instead grabbing a flute of champagne and turning back, facing the room.

There’s a lot of chatter, laughter here and there, the sound of conversations ebbing and flowing like the sea. He sees Victoria standing in the middle of the room, a smile on her face that only comes across as forced when you’ve grown up with her. For a second, he feels the sting of guilt that she was the one that lost their traditional rock, paper scissors battle about which one of them has to take care of the people from the press. He sees Andy’s back in the far corner of the room, hiding whoever he’s talking to from Robert’s view. Diane and Bernice are sitting on one of the few armchairs in the room and Robert stares at the contrast between the chair’s golden legs and the deep red carpet.

He’s never liked that combination of colours.

Robert feels his sight go blurry with how hard he’s staring and he turns his eyes away, taking another sip of champagne, then looks over towards the open double-doors, leading to the grand staircase in the entrance hall of the palace. Leyla is standing right next to it, staring at her trusted phone, then looking at her wristwatch, raising her eyebrows, and looking back at the screen. Robert can practically hear her thoughts about them running behind schedule already.

He sees politicians from here and from elsewhere, journalists most of which he recognizes, sees all kinds of important people whose names he all knows but whom he doesn’t want to talk to. Robert takes another sip of the champagne in his hands and counts his blessings that nobody has noticed him standing here alone yet.

There are only five minutes left until his father is going to step out onto that balcony, followed by Diane and then his children, and hold a speech before vowing that he will _be an equal man to rich and poor, in all things without any exception_. They do this every year and it’s a tradition almost as old as the kingdom itself, but despite its age, it still draws their citizens to the court like nothing else in the official calendar of the kingdom.

Robert catches Frank looking at his watch out of the corner of his eyes, nudging Jack and then whispering in his ear. Jack excuses himself from his guests and with a wave of his hand two guards appear on each side of the balcony doors, each guard facing the room but resting one hand at the handles to each door, ready to open them when they get the order.

The conversations inside the room winds down leaving the impatient cheers of the people outside. Robert checks his watch. Two minutes.

He watches as Jack nods and the guards open the doors. The movement causes another wave of noise to waft inside, this one higher and louder than before. It’s a herald of their king and Robert knows that Jack is one of the most popular leaders of the country.

At 4pm on the dot the Sugdens follow Jack outside, one after the other, the sun high in the sky, a breeze tugging on their hair and clothes. They do this every year and even though Robert is used to crowds they’re never quite like this

“Dear citizens,” King Jack begins, standing straight in front of the lectern, his eyes sweeping over the seemingly endless crowd of people.

“Dear Prime Minister Finch, dear ambassadors, dear freemen and freewomen, dear guests from near and far.” He pauses and Robert can see everybody standing in the forecourt looking up, raking their heads to get the best view possible. The people are waiting for their king to speak.

“Once again, a year has passed in Emmerdale. Today’s Day of Vows reminds us of a constitutional text from the middle ages: the royal letter of vows from 1397. The letter is the expression of a tradition in our kingdom that’s almost 600 years old. This tradition is in the center of today’s celebrations.

Pageant, Dances, Music and other activities have again brought us a lot of happiness this year. Our citizens have heeded the centuries-old tradition devotedly. I want to thank each and every one of you who helped with the execution of the numerous events.”

Watching his father give speeches is fascinating and always has been. One of his earliest childhood memories that Robert can recall is his dad sitting in a room, cameras and lights focused on him, staff and cameramen buzzing around him. Robert remembers the volume of hectic movements ringing in his memories and he will never forget how quiet and calm it suddenly became when King Jack started speaking to his subjects. The once stressed and frantic faces in the room had relaxed until all of them were smiling, satisfied and congratulating each other for another easy and successful production, all the while his dad was calm as the eye of the storm.  Robert can’t have been much older than four years but it’s a moment he often thinks about.

From the day he was born, Robert was destined to take the throne once his father retired. His entire life has been lead in preparation for the moment he would be declared king. Every day after that would be a test of living up to his father’s legacy while having to stand up to every comparison every citizen of the kingdom will make. He’s known this ever since he could remember, but seeing Jack in front of his people, addressing them with the most natural ease and poise, always reminds him of what kind of task exactly Jack is leaving him. It causes an uneasy pang in his chest. He swallows it down.

It’s the chiming of the church bells that snaps him out of his thoughts. The bells mean the speech is almost over and Robert chides himself for losing focus for so long.

“The Bell of Vows sounds from the church tower. The sound reminds us that we’re only a link in the long chain of generations in this kingdom. The bell urges us to stay modest, to keep our feet on the ground and to do what’s best for our country and its citizens. With that thought, I hereby renew the vow from ancient times.”

Jack lifts his right hand and raises his thumb, index finger and middle finger for the traditional vow.

“I vow to be an equal man to rich and poor, in all things equal, common and fair, without a single exception.”

Jack’s hand sinks and applause erupts. Robert joins into the thunderous clapping and cheering from the crowd of people, as well as from the guests of honor in the room behind them and the Sugden family itself, all assembled on the balcony.

Robert looks over to Victoria standing next to him, beaming at their dad, her head tilted and eyes never leaving Jack’s face. Andy is standing next to Vic, smiling and clapping, looking proud and admiring, his eyes wandering from Jack over to the frontcourt. Diane is standing with her head high, positively grinning as she looks at Jack, and in the sunshine her eyes are glistening. Robert follows her line of sight and sees Jack nodding in thanks. He’s not exactly smiling but he’s eyes are bright, the crows feet that usually run around his eyes looking less pronounced, the corners of his lips turned upward. He looks pleased and he has every reason to be, Robert thinks.

Turning his head back forward, Robert forces himself to smile and waves towards the people as his father is the first to walk through the balcony doors and back inside.

 

+++

 

“Kerry, can’t you hurry up? We can’t be late for a live broadcast.”

“You might be the prince’s personal assistant, Leyla, but you can’t boss me around, you know. I could just up and go, leave you hanging high and dry. Then you’d have a real problem.”

The next dab of the brush on Robert’s face following her words is significantly firmer than the ones that came before and he narrows his closed eyes, raising one eyebrow in surprise.

“Oi, don’t look at me like that, your highness,” Kerry says and Robert puts actual effort into relaxing his face and looking as neutral as possible.

“You’ve got a contract with us, you can’t just leave with the job half-finished or I’m going to sue you into the next century for non-performance, Kerry Wyatt!”

“Relax, man,” Kerry says. There’s clattering that sounds as if she’s rummaging through her bag of makeup. “I’m working, aren’t I? True art just takes time, I told ya.”

“Art?” Leyla yelps, her voice several octaves higher than usual. She exhales heavily through her nostrils and Robert tries not to raise his eyebrows again. Experience has taught Robert that that sound is not a good sign and that he should be careful with that he says next. However, from what he’s learned about the woman doing his makeup in the last five minutes, Robert thinks Kerry won’t read it as a bad sign at all. “He just needs a bit of powdering because of the cameras, he’s pretty enough on his own without whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Thank you, Leyla,” Robert interrupts them, not really expecting to be heard as the dabs on his face continue.

“Shut up,” both women say at the same time. Robert is so surprised by the volume that he startles.

“You can stop your moaning already, he’s done. All ready for his big interview on live television, god save the king.”

Robert finally opens his eyes at that. He’s had his eyes closed for so long that the light is blinding and his eyes flutter shut again. After a second of adjusting, he looks back and forth between the two women standing in front of him and staring daggers at each other.

He resists the urge to look for the nearest mirror to inspect what Kerry classifies as art and stands up, steps in front of Kerry, his right hand extended towards her.

“Thanks for your service, Kerry. It was a pleasure.”

She shakes his hand and throws a glance towards Leyla to his left, smirking and looking much too self-satisfied, and salutes him before turning around and picking up her tubes and bottles and brushes. Robert turns as well and Leyla rolls his eyes at him.

She manages to keep it in until she shuts the door behind them and they’re standing in the corridor.

“Stupid cow, I hate having to work with her I’m telling you.”

“I think she’s alright, really.”

“You’re such a liar,” Leyla says, hitting him on his arm, but she’s smiling when she turns her head away. They start walking down the corridor and down a staircase. “You’re way too good at that, d’you know? She thinks you adore her even though I know you don’t.”

“I’ve been practicing it all my life, Leyla,” Robert says. “I have to make everybody think I like them. Can’t have the crown prince misrepresenting the royal family.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “I’m at every event with you, I know how you are with people in public. But just for the record, I would drag you out of the room by your ear if you ever started telling people how you really feel about them.”

“Imagine the headlines: Prince Robert Dragged Out By The Ear. They’d take it as confirmation of our sordid affair.”

Leyla groans. “Don’t remind me of those stupid rumours. The press is already hell, thank god that’s Megan’s job most of the time.”

“So, if I ever really want to give Megan hell-”

“Don’t even think about it, Robert.”

She raises her index finger towards him and gives him a warning look that he doesn’t quite believe. Robert presses his lips together so that he doesn’t end up full on grinning.

They reach the atrium at the bottom of the stairs. The ground floor of the west wing of the palace is the only part beside the gardens and the grand ballroom that’s accessible to the public on occasion. It’s full of rooms for official business like press conferences, interviews and various other things. Leyla leads him to the first room on the left of the atrium that Vic has always called the TV room ever since she was little. When they enter it, Robert almost expects his childhood memory to manifest, his father sitting behind the table and addressing his people, all camera’s turned towards him. Jack isn’t there, however. Instead it’s half a dozen people taking care of lights, cameras and cables, hurrying around two chairs that are set up in the middle of the room, facing each other.

One of the chairs is occupied by a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a blue dress, reading notes on a clipboard. Robert looks her up and down, trying to assess the woman who only took a few seconds to notice them and is now walking towards them, a polite smile on her face, her walk confident. Robert crosses his hands behind his back. She keeps her eyes on him and never once spares Leyla a glance.

“Priya Sharma, it’s an honour to meet you, your highness.”

“Likewise, Miss Sharma,” Robert replies. Her handshake is firmer than Robert expected and he’s starting to think that there’s a lot about her that isn’t immediately obvious when looking at her.

Leyla and Miss Sharma greet each other with a kiss on each cheek and even though their small talk seems friendly and professional, Robert gets the faint impression that they’ve known each other for a long time. He can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

After excusing them, Robert follows Leyla into a small adjacent room that acts as a sort of green room. There’s a massive horizontal mirror hanging on the wall opposite to the door, going all the way from one corner to the other, a table below it that’s just as long, and four chairs standing in front of it. An empty coatrack is attached between the walls opposite of the mirror, and except for a few pictures on the wall, the room is empty. Leyla heads for one of the heavy chairs, turns it around and sits down.

“Let’s just so a quick briefing in here. Sit down.”

Robert pulls back the chair next to her and sits down.

“Your segment will be live and they’re going to do a couple of rehearsals so that nothing goes wrong later. You only have to be there for the main thing, though. Being a prince does have its perks sometimes.” Her attention jumps to her phone and she taps at it several times with her index finger, her eyes moving from left to right reading something, then she looks back at Robert.

“Right, so Pri- I mean Miss Sharma is going to ask you about the Royal Charity Fund and the charity you’ve chosen for this year.”

It’s interesting to see Leyla stumble over her words because it happens so rarely and amusement pulls the corner of his lips upwards. She seems surprised by her own mistake as well judging from the way she raises her eyebrows.  

“She’s instructed to only ask questions about the charity and the Charity Fund so you should be able to do this in your sleep.” She puts her phone in her bag and smiles at him. “Did you get everything?”

“Do you know her?”

“What d’you mean?”

Robert narrows his eyes. “You specifically gave her this exclusive, didn’t you?”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Robert,” she replies, her eyebrows raised even higher than before. She stands up and with an _I’ll get you when they’re done_ she leaves the room.

The door falls closed behind her with a soft click. It only takes a second and then the room is deafening in its silence. Robert can’t even hear the crew working on the other side of the door, no movement and no word. It’s the kind of quiet that bothers very quickly, that demands to be filled or to be distracted from.

Robert takes his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket and clicks the screen to life. There are several new texts and one of them is from Aaron. He ignores the other and opens that text.

 **Aaron** [3.56pm] someone parked a sweet vintage porsche in the garage we should take it for a drive

Robert is grinning before he realizes. He remembers when the conversation between them first had turned to cars and which ones they wished they had. It was back when they’d first started this, things still fragile and new, back when they realized that it was surprisingly easy to hold a conversation between them even though they’ve led very different kind of lives. The fact that Aaron remembers makes his chest feel warm. Robert starts typing a reply.

 **You** [4.15pm] What model?

His eyes are glued to the screen even though he doesn’t expect Aaron to reply quickly. Aaron doesn’t like texting and he should be working right now anyway. Still, Robert’s eyes don’t leave the screen. His patience is rewarded when a minute later the grey bubble pops up, indicating that Aaron is typing.

 **Aaron** [4.16pm] 944 or 924

 **You** [4.16pm] Are you saying you’re not sure?

 **Aaron** [4.16pm] fuck off

 **You** [4.17pm] The great Aaron Dingle beaten by a Porsche 944 or 924

 **Aaron** [4.21pm] who are you again

 **You** [4.21pm] The man of your dreams

 **Aaron** [4.22pm] i’m never letting you near me again

Suddenly, the door opens and Robert doesn’t exactly jump but it’s a close thing.

“They’re ready, it’s your turn now,” Leyla says, her head poking into the room, looking around the room as if she’s checking if she was interrupting anything. He’d like to tell her that she was, even though the room is empty apart from himself.

“Thanks, Leyla,” Robert says and pockets his phone, stands up and walks out of the green room.

He follows Leyla to the two chairs that are set up in the middle of the room, maneuvering through cameras and lights, staring at the floor so he doesn’t trip over any of the cables. It’s the last thing he needs before his face is broadcasted into the living room of millions of people.

Miss Sharma is already sitting on the right chair, once again shuffling through the papers on her lap, and she smiles brightly when Robert takes a seat vis-à-vis. A loud _three minutes_ comes from one corner of the room and Robert shakes is wrist, freeing his watch from where it was glued to his skin, and checks the time. When he looks up again, Miss Sharma is looking at him, her friendly smile still on her face, but it’s different than before, sharper and calculating. It makes him want to sit straighter and hold his cards closer.

“How do you like the palace, Miss Sharma?”

“It’s really beautiful. It looks marvelous from the outside but I have to admit, the inside looks even more impressive.”

“I take it you haven’t been here before?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head, “this is my first time here.”

“Well then, welcome to the royal court,” Robert says.

 _One minute_ , someone yells again and Miss Sharma sits back in her chair, leans on the armrest with her right elbow and shakes her hair slightly so it’s out of her face. Someone comes running towards them and dabs something on Miss Sharma’s face with a sponge before hurrying out of the frame again.

The same voice as before starts counting down backwards from fifteen. When the voice reaches _one_ , they stop counting. A red light on top of the camera Miss Sharma is looking into turns on and Robert has done enough interviews to know that they’re live. He hears words coming into Miss Sharma’s earpiece but he doesn’t understand what exactly they’re saying. Miss Sharma nods then starts speaking.

“Yes, thank you, Mary. I’m here with Crown Prince Robert,” Priya says and waves her hand in Robert’s direction, her body fully angling towards him now that the short introduction is over.

“Hello, everyone,” Robert replies, putting on his press-proof smile that he doesn’t feel.

“Your highness, why don’t you start by telling us what exactly the Royal Charity Fund is?”

“The Royal Charity Fund is a foundation that has been founded by King Jacob II back in 1860. The money in the fund goes to a different charity every year and we highlight their work and their achievement during the course of that year.”

“Your choice this year has been the Teenage Cancer Trust, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Why did your family choose the Teenage Cancer Trust as your featured charity this year?”

“I have to say, it was a tough choice this year. There were a lot of good charities on the final list and we discussed it quite thoroughly before we made a final decision. The Teenage Cancer Trust has been working to help kids from 13 to 24 years old who have been diagnosed with cancer for a long time now and we felt it was the right time to recognize them for their work.”

“Did the fact that your step-mother Lady Diane was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago influence your decision, do you think?”

“That played a role for her, I believe, but not for the overall decision, no.”

“Every year, you host a charity concert for the Royal Charity Fund. Are you looking forward to that?”

“Of course I am, very much so.”

“Events like these must feel like the old days for you now that you seem to have scaled back the partying.” Priya laughs.

Robert almost narrows his eyes at her but manages to keep his face neutral. It’s a question that comes dangerously close to personal.

“I enjoy those events, yes, but I wouldn’t say that they feel like old days.”

“Do you have a plus one for the charity concert yet?” Priya asks, her head leaning to one side, her smile almost challenging. The palms of his hands turn clammy. She used official business to get into his personal one. In itself it’s not a bad idea and Robert would almost admire her ambition if he wasn’t stuck on live television with no way to avoid answering the question without coming across badly.

“No, not yet. I haven’t decided if I’m taking anyone yet.”

“So, there’s no woman in your life who could come with you? No woman you could tell us a little bit about?”

Robert’s brain betrays him by thinking of Aaron. He clenches his jaw. “No, there’s not.”

“That’s a pity,” Priya says, frowning in what she probably thinks is sympathy but Robert thinks might be the loss of a story. “I hope you find someone soon. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you together with a woman on your side.”

Robert forces a smile on his lips. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

“Thank you, Miss Sharma.”

“Priya Sharma, live from the royal palace. Goodbye.”

There’s silence and Robert has to remind himself that they might still be on air since all he wants to do is leave the room as quickly as possible. Not for the first time in his life is Robert reminded why he doesn’t like and doesn’t trust journalists and reporters. He wants to find Leyla and demand an explanation but more than that he wants out of the stifling room filled with too many strangers who want to make his business theirs.

 _Cut_ , the voice from the corner of the room shouts and the room comes back alive again.

Robert stands up and from the corner of his eye he can see Leyla hurrying towards him, looking back and forth between Priya and Robert. Even though he wanted to leave as fast as possible earlier, he’s rooted into place now, looking at Priya while kneading his fingers behind his back. Gone is the friendly and polite mask from earlier and now she looks victorious, crisp like the air in a cold winter night, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Robert knows that for her that could barely count as a win, but it still grinds on him.

Leyla appears on his side, one hand on his arm. “Remember that conversation we had earlier about you having to be nice because you’re the prince? Please don’t forget it now.”

He can feel the tension in his shoulders building, can feel the words he could hurl on the back of his tongue, knows all the actions he could theoretically take against her, but thankfully, he’s been doing this long enough to know that he doesn’t open his mouth.

“Thank you for the interview, your highness. It was an honour.”

She extends her arm for a handshake once again. Robert looks at the hand, back at her, then back at the hand. He takes it without saying a word and he shakes it as quickly as he can get away with. Letting go, he starts walking back to the green room because it’s the nearest door. He regrets his choice a moment later when he locks the door behind him and there is nowhere further to go. Robert paces up and down the length of the room, agitation running like ants under his skin. His hands are itching to throw over the chairs, destroy the mirror, but he stops himself, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes. He opens them again after a long moment and sits down in the same chair as before.

He leans his head back far enough that it’s resting on the back of the chair and stares at the stark white ceiling. He hates getting caught off guard. It doesn’t happen very often anymore so when it does it hits like a bucket of ice water. He takes another deep breath then sits up and takes out his phone, opening his contacts and hits call.

It takes five rings until the call comes through.

“Alright?” Aaron asks. His voice is enough that some of the tension leaves Robert’s shoulders.

“Hey.” Robert sighs and sinks into the chair. He closes his eyes and imagines Aaron right in this moment with his phone pressed to his ear. Where he’s standing, what he’s wearing, what his face looks like.

“What did ya want?” Aaron asks. Robert can hear the smile in his voice.

“Just missed you. Needed to hear your voice.”

“Soft git,” Aaron laughs. Neither of them says anything for a moment, more than content with the silence. It’s almost as good as having Aaron right there. Only almost.

“Everything alright, Rob?”

“Yeah, just –“ He swallows. “Just had a stressful day.”

“What, did you have to sign more than the usual one paper and go to one too many luncheons?”

“You know that’s not what I do all day.”

“I don’t believe ya.”

Opening his eyes, Robert smiles into the empty room. “Let’s meet.”

“What? Tonight?”

“Yeah. Let’s meet in the-“

Suddenly, there’s rapid knocking against the wooden door, echoing loudly in the empty room. “Robert? Are you in there?”

“Excuse me for a second, Aaron.” Robert doesn’t wait until Aaron says anything but doesn’t bother to cover the mic of his phone either.

“What is it, Leyla?”

“I hope you had enough time to calm down because we need to get you ready for the charity concert tonight.”

Robert’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “What charity concert?”

“Where were you the last 30 minutes?” Leyla asks, her voice high and annoyed. “The one you literally just talking about? The one I told you about Monday, remember? Teenage Cancer Trust is doing their annual- You know what, this is stupid why do I have to talk to you through the door? Just let me in the room, Robert.”

Robert feels annoyed, disappointed and angry all at once. It takes him a second until he can reply. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Alright but be quick. I’ll wait outside.”

Robert hears the heels of Leyla’s shoes banging against the wooden floor for a second before the silence wraps around him again. This time it’s not comforting.

“Fuck,” Robert mutters, scratches his thumb over his forehead. “Aaron?”

There’s a pause at the other end of the line and a spike of panic shoots through him, the palm of his hands turning cold.

“I’m still here,” Aaron says eventually. Aaron should be in the garage of the castle which is only a minute away from where Robert is sitting, but now it might as well be a thousand miles away, Robert thinks.

“I’m so sorry but we can’t meet tonight after all. I’ve got this charity event and I can’t-“

“I get it, Robert,” Aaron says.

“You know I’d rather spend the night with you then at some concert making nice with everyone, right? I’m just the only one of us going so I can’t get out of it.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, it’s fine. You’re the prince, you’re busy.” He pauses and Robert almost speaks but then Aaron speaks again, quieter than before. “I get it.”

“I’m sorry, Aaron.”

“I know you are.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

“Yeah,” Aaron says and Robert likes to think he heard a smile in there, “call me.”

 

+++

 

Robert finishes his first sandwich while Aaron is eating his second one and Robert wipes his hands on a napkin before lying back on the picnic blanket, crossing his arms behind his head, and looking at the specks of light that filter through the leaves of the trees. It looks like a backlit canopy with holes of various sizes punched into it, the wind pulling it in all directions, sunlight and shadows dancing all over them.

The wind doesn’t really bother them on the forest floor. Even though they didn’t walk very far into the woods, the only sounds they can hear is the birds chirping and the occasional bee flying past. It’s quiet and it feels like there is not a single soul around them for miles.

“Who made these sandwiches?”

“I did.”

“You had time to make sandwiches?”

“For you, yeah.”

Aaron shakes his head but Robert sees the corner of Aaron’s mouth lifting into half a smile.

“Why? Did you like them?” Robert asks.

Aaron weighs his head from side to side, seemingly considering the answer to the question, eyebrows drawn together in a way that makes him look more than skeptical. Robert would almost be fooled if Aaron wasn’t wolfing down the last bite of his second sandwich. Sitting up, he reaches for the sides of Aaron’s stomach where Robert knows he’s ticklish but Aaron is faster than him and curls up, his hands clutching his stomach, and grins. Robert tries to tickle him anyway, half lying on top of Aaron and trying to get his hands under Aaron’s arms. It’s a grapple that makes Robert feel like he’s twelve again and just when Robert thinks he’s made it, Aaron manages to roll them over, off the blanket.

Robert’s back is pressed against the forest floor, Aaron hovering over him, his shins pressing into Robert’s thighs, Aaron’s hands wrapped around Robert’s wrists. The points of contact are sending sizzling electricity along Robert’s nerves and it spreads everywhere, all over him, faster than light. They’re frozen in time, neither of the moving, staring at each other. Robert has looked at Aaron a million times before but that doesn’t mean staring has lost its appeal. It’s rather the opposite.

“We have a perfectly good picnic blanket over there,” Robert remarks.

Instead of answering, Aaron leans down, their lips touching softly. Aaron’s lips feel feather-light and firm at the same time as he kisses Robert short and sweet. Again. And again. They’re pecks really, a short meeting of their lips, loud and soft, electrifying and soothing.

Robert lifts his hand to the back of Aaron’s head, pulling him in, because those kisses feel too much like teasing and as much fun as that can be, it’s never enough. Robert accepted a while ago that he’s always going to want the whole deal when it comes to Aaron. He parts his lips, licking along Aaron’s bottom lip and Robert thinks Aaron gets it. He moans when their tongues meet in the middle and silently Robert agrees that that’s his favourite part as well.

The kiss is slow, no real urgency behind it, the only goal being the kiss itself. Aaron’s grip on Robert’s wrists loosens as they get lost in their kisses, and it’s warm and it’s safe, and Robert sighs into the space between their lips without really meaning to. Aaron catches it and returns it in like, and it turns into a spark that slow-dances across Robert’s lips, leaving him breathless. Robert feels like his lungs might explode, his heart beating audibly in his ears, Aaron all he can think and all that he wants, now and always.

Aaron breaks the kiss and pulls back a bit. His face looks relaxed and inviting, his eyes soft with something that Robert has seen before but doesn’t dare to name in case he’s wrong and is just imagining it after all. He thinks that his own eyes might reflect the feelings, though, and just to make sure Aaron understands, Robert pulls him down again, sucking on his bottom lip, gentle and appreciating, breathing him in to fill his lungs with him too. Aaron hums at the sensation and the vibration of it tingles through both their lips, Aaron’s more than Robert’s, so Aaron pulls away and laughs, his thumb tentatively brushing over Robert’s bottom lip.

It basically finishes how it started, with small pecks repeatedly landing on Robert’s lips, loud smacks that Robert can’t help but smile like at, his stomach fluttering as if he was a stupid teenager again.

Aaron gets up slowly, brushing the soil off his hands and his knees before he offers Robert a hand and pulls him up. Robert really doesn’t want to know how much of the floor is hanging off the back of his t-shirt but judging by Aaron’s laugh, it’s quite a lot.

They lie back down on the picnic blanket, both of them staring at the treetops from below, listening to the rustling of the leaves in the wind, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

“I like it here,” Aaron says. Robert glances at Aaron and sees the content look on his face.

“I camped out here one when I wanted to run away from the palace.”

Aaron snorts. “You wanted to run away?”

“Yeah, I did. I made it as far as this spot and put up a small tent and everything. Thought I’d stop there for the night and continue my journey in the morning.

“How did that go?”

“Not well. My mum found me around midnight. She started crying because she’d been so worried. I decided to come home after that.” Robert frowns. It’s not the most pleasant of memories. “I must have been about ten.”

“Why did you wanna leave?”

Robert breathes a laugh that isn’t as humourous as he meant for it to be. “I didn’t want to be the prince anymore. Dad told me that I would have to be the prince for my whole life until the day I died and I didn’t want to do that. Ten-year-old me thought I stop, if I just left the country.”

“But it’s 115 miles from here until the border,” Aaron says, turning his head towards Robert.

Robert nods. “It’s 115 miles from here until the border.”

The trees around them rise high into the sky from where they’re lying on the floor. Even though they’ve packed away the rest of the foot into the basket Robert had brought, Robert feels an ant crawl its way through the hairs of his forearm. He flicks it away.

“Do you still feel like that?”

Robert turns his head towards Aaron. “Like running away?”

Aaron nods. Robert looks back up again.

“Not really, no. Think I’ve realized that I’d always have to be me no matter where I go. It’s not like you can escape yourself, is it.”

“No,” Aaron says, “you can’t.”

Aaron draws a long breath beside him, scooting closer to Robert so their arms are touching from shoulder to pinkie. Robert turns his head towards Aaron just as Aaron mirrors him. Their noses are barely and inch apart, close enough that Robert’s eyes almost go cross-eyed when he looks at Aaron. It makes Aaron laugh and Robert’s stomach flutters, his skin prickling with warmth that’s not from the sun.

Robert lifts his hand and cups Aaron’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over his cheek bone. Aaron’s eyes look a different shade of blue in the forest than it usually does and it’s fascinating to see. Robert thinks he might drown in it.

“Sorry that I had to cancel the other night,” Robert says, quietly so he doesn’t disturb the bubble they’re in.

“It’s fine,” Aaron says, looking down between them, “you had more important things to do.”

Robert frowns. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though, innit?”

“Listen, Aaron.” Robert leans his forehead against Aaron’s. “Are you listening?”

Aaron snorts a laugh, nodding.

“You are important to me, Aaron. Really important.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, quiet, barely more than a whisper. “But you’ve got other responsibilities, Robert. Pretty big responsibilities actually and like you said, you can’t run away from them.”

“But that doesn’t mean those responsibilities are more important than you.“

“They have to be, though, don’t they? You’re the bloody prince, Robert.”

“I don’t want them to be.” He tilts his chin and places a lingering kiss on Aaron’s lips. “My priorities fall very differently in private than they do in public. I can promise you that.”

Aaron looks at him as if his eyes are searching for the truth in every nook and cranny of Robert’s face. Robert can’t tell if Aaron finds what he’s looking for when turns his head upwards again and Robert is forced to take his hand off Aaron’s cheek. Robert stares at Aaron’s profile, trying to find the words to get them out of their first real argument, but he’s at a loss. Aaron is right and as much as Robert would like to deny it, he can’t. He turns his head too, staring at the trees and the bits of sky, asking himself why their peaceful afternoon escalated like this. He still doesn’t know what to say and Aaron said all he needed to so silence reigns between them and it’s not how Robert thought their little secluded date would go.

“Do you ever wish it was different?” Robert asks, the chirps of a nearby Robin playing along.

“Wish what was different?”

“Do you ever wish we’d met in a different way? That we were different people?”

There’s a pause before Aaron answers. “All the time.”

It’s a truth heavy like life and death. Robert grabs Aaron’s fingers between his own, lifts it up and kisses the back of Aaron’s hand.

 

+++

 

The next morning, Robert wakes up abruptly, heart racing and world spinning.

“Rob! Robert! Wake up for Christ’s sake!”

He blinks his eyes open blearily and it takes a moment before he recognizes Victoria’s silhouette in the light that falls into the room from the corridor outside. It’s still dark out. It has to be the middle of the night.

“Vic, what on earth are you doing, I was fast-“

“Dad had a heart attack,” she interrupts him. It’s only now that his eyes have adjusted that he sees that her eyes are rimmed red, her hair disheveled and her eyebrows drawn together in worry. Robert’s blood stops in his veins and turns cold.

“What?” he asks but it’s not more than a breath.

“It just happened,” she says, voice tear-heavy, “Diane already called the ambulance. She’s with him.”

The wooden floor is cold under his feet when he gets out of bed. Victoria is looking at him expectantly though Robert has no idea what she’s looking for.

“Is he gonna be alright?”

“I don’t know, do I?” Vic says, angry now, a fresh tear running down her cheek, “we need to go see him, the ambulance will be here any second.”

She turns and walks to the door but Robert feels as if his feet were glued to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He wants to move, wants to follow the instinctive panic and check if his father is alright but his muscles won’t let him.

His thoughts are running a million miles an hour. He doesn’t just think about his father’s life hanging in the balance, but his head keeps screaming at him that this is it, this is the end of King Jack III and Robert is going to have to take the reins. Guilt hits him the next second and he can’t swallow it as much as he tries, a white, hot lump is his throat that won’t budge. His eyes feel impossibly wide and it’s only when his chest starts to hurt that he realizes he hasn’t been breathing. He inhales, staring into nothingness as images flash before his, a slideshow made too fast. His father’s body, funeral, flowers, Diane, mum, crown, microphone, fear, fear, fear.

Fear that paralyses him. Fear of maybe not being prepared after all, fear that he’s going to let his father down, fear that maybe things won’t be fine, fear for his father’s life.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Robert thinks.

“Robert?” Vic asks, looking back at him in confusion, “come on, we need to hurry.”

Robert doesn’t know what to say and how to explain why he can’t but then Victoria takes his hand the spell is broken and Robert thinks he might make it. Together they hurry along the corridor. The living quarters of the royal family are all next to each other so it takes no time at all until they’re in Jack and Diane’s bedroom.

“There you are,” Diane yelps. “You’ve been ages!”

Vic hurries over to the bed standing in the middle of the room and takes other hand that Diane isn’t already holding. “Sorry, this one took ages to wake up.”

He barely makes it through the door and only takes one step into the room. The first thing Robert notices is the fact that his father’s eyes are open, his chest moving up and down, inhaling, exhaling. The sight makes his chest skip a beat then continue twice as fast, a cold, invisible shower raining on his skin. He’s still alive. He’s still alive.

Everything else passes in a blur. Andy leads three paramedics in the room, there’s loud talking, throwing around of medical term he doesn’t understand, Jack’s moan of pain when they lift him on the gurney, Diane and Vic’s concerned faces, Andy looking determined and worried.

For Robert, the world snaps back into focus when the paramedics roll jack past him and he sees his father looking at him. His face looks just as it did before but his eyes have always been the most expressive part. They’re the first thing he can see clearly and that he will remember later. Robert nods, watches Diane walks after them so she can ride to the hospital with Jack, straightens his back and takes a deep breath. He’s got work to do.

 

+++

 

The lack of sleep tugs heavily on his eyelids. He’s been awake all night and the morning, trying to get work done while waiting for news of how his father is doing. The last time Diane called, Jack had still been unconscious. _No news is good news_ , Victoria had sighed, her bottom lip quivering. He’d hugged her then, her tears leaving fat drops on his t-shirt.

“You should really get some sleep,” Leyla says from her seat next to him at the desk in Robert’s office. “We can cope without you for a few hours.”

It had only taken one step into his father’s office for Robert to know that he wouldn’t be able to get any work done in the room. Robert has lost count of the amount of times he’s walked into his father’s study and seen him sit behind the desk, reading glasses hanging low on his nose, while he was reading documents with the Emmerdale emblem printed on the front. It is so much father’s room that Robert felt like he was intruding without his father there. He’d closed the door softly behind him and walked into his own office, adjacent to his own quarters with one door eading to his bedroom and with one door leading to the hallway.

Leyla had found him in the early hours of the morning, had said nothing to him but laid her hand on his shoulder for a minute, then sat down and started her day’s work. They spent the morning checking what parts of Robert’s schedule needed to be rearranged in the next days.

“I’ll sleep later,” Robert says, rubbing his thumb over his eyebrow. His eyes feel dry and weary.

“How much later is later?” Leyla asks, her voice not the least bit believing.

Robert is saved from having to lie to her when the door opens unprompted, both him and Leyla snapping their heads towards it. Andy and Frank enter the room. They’re late, Robert notices when he checks the clock hanging over the door. He called for both of them a while ago.

“There you are,” Robert says, putting down the diary he was staring at. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Excuse the delay, Sir,” Frank says, walking quickly, then sitting down on one of the chairs in front of the desk, looking at Robert with a worried wrinkle between his eyebrows. He sets a tablet on the table and pulls up a diary with a few taps. Robert briefly wonders why Frank is the only one of the PAs who does his work exclusively electronically when he’s the oldest one of them all.

“I took the liberty to reschedule or cancel some of His Majesty’s appointments,” Frank continues, “but there is one I can’t do either with. His Majesty was supposed to attend the opening of the new wool factory next week. He insisted on going there himself since it’s a rural area and the factory is creating a lot of new jobs. How do you want me to proceed, Sir?”

Leaning back in his chair, Robert crosses his arms.

“Cancel it. Schedule a new visit with them when my father is up to it again but for now we obviously can’t reschedule this visit.”

Frank nods and taps on the screen of the tablet but he stops when Andy speaks.

“Dad wouldn’t want you to cancel that visit. He always goes to factory openings.”

“We have no other choice.”

“Robert, you’re not listening. This is important to him, we can’t just cancel the visit just because he’s not here to defend his decision.”

“Can we please not do this, Andy? You’re out of the country, Vic is at the other end of the country, I don’t have time and you know we can’t ask Diane.”

“Then we cancel my trip to the King of Hotton.”

“You know we can’t do that, how would it look if we cancelled a foreign meeting for a measly factory opening?”

“Have you not been listening to a word I said? It’s not measly, Dad would have-“

“And that’s Dad’s right,” Robert says, louder than intended but it has the desired effect. Andy is staring at him, lips parted mid-sentence, eyes wide in surprise. “The rest us doesn’t have the capacities for it.”

“Fine, then,” Andy says, “but I’m telling you, he won’t like this when he hears about your decision.”

Robert scoffs. “It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, believe me.”

There’s rapid knocking in the door, surprisingly loud as it echoes through the room. Robert thinks whoever is on the other side must have a very urgent proposal because he knows from experience how much knocking that way can hurt. He lets his head hang for a fraction of a second then says “Come in”.

It’s Megan who walks in. He immediately grows weary. It's never a good sign if the head of PR looking for someone. Robert can only imagine what she wants.

Megan comes to a stop behind the two chairs Andy and Leyla are sitting in, ignoring them both, her hands clasped together. Her face looks like it always does but there is a subtle tension in the way she carries her body that makes Robert think she’s bracing herself.

“Your Highness,” Megan greets him, bowing her head quickly before straightening up again. The gesture reminds Robert that she is used to dealing with his father directly who puts a lot more importance in appropriate greetings than Robert does. “Do you have a minute for me?”

Robert is about to dismiss Frank and Andy but Megan waves him off.

“Oh no, they should be here for this as well.”

Robert looks at her again, looking more uneasy than she did before. Robert thinks he might have to expect the worst. “What is it, Megan?”

She sends a glance at Frank then looks back at Robert. “Even though we took all possible precautions the press got wind of the fact that someone of the royal family is in the hospital.”

Robert closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. He would have liked to avoid this but he should have known that I wasn’t avoidable. “What are our options?”

“Speculations have already started and I can’t guarantee that the press won’t have people inside the hospital.”

“Get to the point, Megan.”

For a moment, she looks like she wants to say something about his tone and Robert almost apologises.

“The point is that I think the smartest thing to do is draft a press release about what happened and release it when he’s already out of the woods.”

“He’s not dying, he will get better.”

“I know, Sir, I just meant when the doctors have confirmed that everything is fine. We can’t take any chances.”

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes losing focus. “Draft something and send it to me, I’d like to look over it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Megan says, bows her head again, before leaving the room.

Robert pulls the diary he was staring at earlier back towards him and looks up at Andy and Frank.

“Right,” he sighs, “where were we?”

 

+++

 

 _Full recovery_. The words have been swirling around like a tornado his head all day. Now they’re echoing in his head just like his footsteps echo along the long, white hallway of the hospital.

It’s long after visiting hours are over and Megan arranged it so he could get into the hospital through the hidden back entrance so he could come and go undetected. He turns a corner and spots the room his father is in from the end of the hallway already, a guard posted in front of it, wearing the royal uniform and looking straight ahead.

The guard salutes and stands straighter when he spots Robert.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” the guard says and opens the door for him. Robert glances at the name plate above the breast pocket because he’s never seen him before.

“Evening, Barton,” Robert says, walks through the door and waits until the guard shuts it closed.

His father looks pale, even more so between the stark white hospital sheets. There’s an IV drip connected to the back of his left hand and a monitor on his right. Robert expects it to beep in time to his father’s heartbeats, but it doesn’t. It’s quiet instead, so quiet that it rings in his ears.

Robert walks to the side of his father’s bed, looking him up and down. From a shorter distance, he looks less pale and more peaceful, sleeping heavy as a stone, just like he always does. The usual hard lines of his father’s face are relaxed, softer than during the day, the wrinkles on his forehead much less prominent and assessing. He looks younger like this, Robert thinks, and it occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he’s seen Jack sleep. Robert guesses it’s another one of those private things he wouldn’t be caught dead doing in front of anybody else.

Robert rubs the thin sheet of the bed between his thumb and index finger, the texture hard from years of washing. Robert huffs a laugh when he imagines his father’s disdainful face at it if these came anywhere near the palace. They’re definitely below His Majesty’s standards. Robert looks down at the mattress, his father’s hand just inches from Robert’s. He’s surprised at the urge to take it, run his thumb over Jack’s knuckles and to feel how warm it is. Robert goes so far as lifting his hand, but stops when he’s hovering a finger's breadth above it. Casual affection is something Robert doesn’t remember Jack doing either, at least not with Robert. He doesn’t think Jack would allow it if he were awake.

Shaking his head, Robert does it anyway, scoffing at himself. Jack’s hand is warm under Robert’s palm, warmer than he’d expected. His skin is soft with age and Robert thinks he can feel his father’s pulse under his fingers, safe and steady. Robert tightens his hold for a second before he lets go again. He looks at Jack’s face, checking if he’s woken him up, but there’s no fluttering of eyelids or a twitch of muscles anywhere.

“Get well soon, dad.”

Robert leaves, not sparing a glance for the guard outside and walks back through the corridors he passed before.

 

+++

 

He feels him everywhere, all at once, all round him.

One of Aaron’s hands is running down from Robert’s hip to his knee, pulling on it as if it can get him closer and closer and closer. There’s heat between them, delicious pressure and kisses in all the right places. The sound of Robert’s skin smacking against Aaron’s is more arousing than Robert would ever dare to admit, and now it’s all he can hear. Like war drums or like thunder, Aaron’s hands sending lightning into Robert’s skin and along his nerves, a storm of a man.

“Fuck, Aaron,” Robert whispers into Aaron’s ear, tumbling over his lips rather involuntarily. He kisses Aaron’s cheek because it’s the part of him that’s closest to Robert’s lips, and Aaron tightens his grip on Robert’s shoulders, so much so that Robert knows his fingernails will leave crescent moon shapes, marks to be kissed or silently admired later on. He’s close, so close Robert can almost taste it, feel it in the blinding heat in his gut and when Aaron throws his head back at Robert’s next thrust, he knows that Aaron can taste it too.

Robert kisses along Aaron’s exposed neck then connects their lips in a clumsy kiss but it earns him a kick in the back of his thigh because the kiss slows down his thrusts. He smiles against Aaron’s lips and picks up the pace, angling himself as much as possible, but Aaron makes it hard to move in any way with how he’s clinging to Robert.

“So close,” Aaron says in a breath, barely even a whisper. Robert leans down on his elbows and kisses Aaron’s throat, lifting one hand and fisting Aaron’s dick. A handful of moments stretch into what feels like eternity and Robert wants to drown in it for just as long. Aaron falls over the edge and comes with a gasp and a whine, a familiar song in Robert’s ears. It doesn’t take Robert long to follow after him, his heart jumping out of his ribcage, a sheen of sweat cooling the skin on his back.

He waits until his breathing is more or less back to normal, then pulls himself together long enough to dispose of the condom and clean them up before lying back down again. Aaron arranges them so that Aaron’s cheek is resting on Robert’s chest, their legs tangled. Robert can just barely make out a patch of moonlight in the dim light of the bedside table that illuminates the middle of the bed. The comfortably warm Wednesday night seems endless there and then.

The reality is that there are only a few hours between now and when Robert has to untangle himself from Aaron and go back to his own chambers. There’s a council meeting in the morning where his presence is mandatory. Robert counts each slow breath Aaron takes, his ribcage pressing into Robert’s side, one of Aaron’s palms splayed on Robert’s stomach over his bare skin. One of Robert’s arms is curled around Aaron’s shoulders, his fingertips running through Aaron’s hair, playing with the short curls.

Robert feels sated and comfortable in a way only Aaron ever manages to make him feel, bone tired but satisfied and happy. They’re lying in Aaron’s bed that’s significantly smaller than Robert’s, breathing together and being together, and Robert wants to bottle the feeling so he can take a sip of it whenever he needs it. He buries his nose into the crown of Aaron’s head, inhales the scent and sends a short prayer to anyone who’s willing to listen that he wants to keep this for forever.

“You’re actually obsessed with my hair, aren’t you?”

Robert turns his head to look into Aaron’s eyes. “What? No, I’m not.”

“But your hands are still in my hair.”

It’s only now that Aaron points it out that Robert realizes he’s kept up the movement of his fingers while he wasn’t paying any attention. Robert is too content to make excuses.

“They feel nice. Sue me.”

Aaron places a kiss on Robert’s chest. “Feels nice, too.”

Robert grins at the ceiling and keeps up the ministrations.

The room Aaron sleeps in is quite small and decorated quite sparely. Apart from the bed, there’s a dresser to the left, a framed picture of Aaron and his mum standing on top of it, a desk on the other side of the room and a single calendar with expensive sports cars hanging on the wall. Robert isn’t sure but the thinks this might be the standard interior for a member of the staff working at the royal court, but he’s never been in someone else’s room. One day, Robert is going to have to bring Aaron to Robert’s quarters even just for the much bigger bed, he thinks.

“How’s your dad?” Aaron asks quietly. For a split second, Robert wonders if it’s because it’s late already or because Aaron knows it’s a touchy subject.

“Good. You know … as good as he can be, given the circumstances.” Robert draws a circle on Aaron’s scalp. “He’s coming home tomorrow.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Aaron lifts his palm off Robert’s torso and it feels cold in contrast, colder than the rest of his skin. The warmth comes back with Aaron’s fingers drawing shapes and lines and swirls on Robert’s ribcage.

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“I am, I’m glad he’s back it’s just …”

“What?”

Robert hasn’t really found the words for it himself, let alone explain it to Aaron. He has half a mind to drop it but he has a feeling Aaron won’t let him.

“My whole life has been geared towards being king one day and taking the throne but it just felt like something that would one day happen in the future. It was a vague concept more than anything. But dad almost dying just put things into perspective, I guess.”

“It’s made it more real,” Aaron says.

“Yeah,” Robert whispers. He takes his hand out of Aaron’s hair and wraps it around Aaron’s shoulders, feels the muscles move under his fingers when Aaron moves his arm. Robert kisses the top of Aaron’s head.

“Now, can we stop talking about my father while we’re naked in bed together?”

Aaron laughs and nuzzles against Robert’s chest, his beard scratching over Robert’s skin. It’s not the only place Robert is going to have beard burn later, Robert thinks, smirking.

The curtain hanging in front of one of the windows in Aaron’s room billows as the air blows inside. The night outside is cool, summer slowly coming to an end, but still warm enough that you wish you could sleep without a blanket. Robert feels the wind a moment later as it breaks against his skin, cold as it dries the sweat from earlier. Robert thinks he should pull the blanket over them but he simply can’t bring himself to move.

“What do you think about masquerade balls?” Robert asks into the silence between them.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question, Aaron.”

“I think dance balls, or whatever, are just there to make posh people even more posh while everybody looks stupid. Not really my sort of thing.”

“Do you want to go to one?”

“What about what I just said made you think I wanna go to a flipping masquerade ball?”

“Nothing. But what if the crown prince himself invited you to one? You could hardly say no to that, could you?”

Aaron lifts his head and looks at Robert. He looks like he wants to ask something but after a few seconds pass, Aaron doesn’t say anything and lies back down on Robert’s chest.

“I’ll have Leyla sort you an invite and a mask.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, Aaron. Besides, just think about it. Masks make it a lot harder to identify people.” His voice drops to a whisper. “We could just pretend we’re someone else all night, nobody would be the wiser.”

The look in Aaron’s eyes tells Robert enough to know that Aaron is interested but unsure.

“Wouldn’t it be weird?”

“Would what be weird?”

“I mean, I’m just the mechanic. What the hell do I want at a fancy ball?”

“Well,” Robert says, “you would keep me from murdering someone probably. Help me keep my sanity.”

Aaron pinches Robert in the side. Robert jumps. “Be serious, Robert.”

“I am being!” Robert says. “Going to a ball is fun but hosting one just means I have to be a diplomat all night. With you there, I’d have a good reason to sneak off once in a while.”

“And it looks good on you if you hang out with the peasants, you mean?”

Robert can’t help but laugh. “You’re not wrong. But that’s not why I asked.”

Aaron’s finger has stopped painting on Robert’s skin, his palm lying flat again. Robert welcomes it.

“Will you come?”

Aaron pushes himself up on his elbows, up so he can kiss Robert. When he breaks the kiss, he doesn’t lie back down on Robert’s chest, but pulls up the blanket from the end of the bed over them. Robert smiles when Aaron tucks the blanket around his back and then he lies down next to Robert, on his side, facing him. Turning his body, Robert mirrors him.

“I’ll think about it, alright?”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Aaron takes a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Robert isn’t sure for what exactly, but Aaron sounds almost embarrassed so he decides to leave it. He takes Aaron’s hand instead, entwining their fingers, laying them down between them.

Aaron smiles at him, tightening his fingers around Robert’s. His heart feels as if it’s expanding in his chest and swallowing him whole. The feeling runs through him from head to toe, warm and tender, twitchy with too much energy and he needs an outlet for it, needs Aaron close, always closer. Robert raises his hand, wraps it around the back of Aaron’s neck and pulls him close, the offending distance between their lips disappearing. The kiss is honey sweet, more reassurance than a starting point for something else, their lips moving slowly against each other, the intention behind it more important than the kiss itself.

Robert slowly breaks the kiss and looks into Aaron’s eyes while he catches his breath. Aaron smiles again, small and private. Robert lifts their entwined hands and kisses the back of Aaron’s hand. He can feel Aaron’s eyes following his movements the entire time. When their hands are lying on the bed just under their chins again, Aaron’s eyelids flutter shut. Robert watches him, runs his eyes over the lines of Aaron’s face, the slope of his nose, his eyebrows in disarray. Aaron opens his eyes again, but it’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, his eyelids drooping lower and lower.

“You have to leave, don’t you?” Aaron asks, his voice tired and quiet, unsure if he should ask or not.

“Not yet,” Robert says and kisses Aaron’s forehead. “I can stay a while.”

Aaron nods against his pillow, a yawn forcing its way out, and Aaron stretches before lifting his head and scooting closer to Robert. He opens his eyes, looking at Robert. The light of the bedside lamp is behind Aaron, casting soft shadows over Aaron’s face. He looks different like this, Robert thinks, trying to memorise it. Aaron lifts an eyebrow, eyes still closed. He exhales loudly as his eyebrow falls again and Robert smiles at the play on Aaron’s face.

“You look tired.”

“’Cause I am.”

“Close your eyes,” Robert says, brushing his thumb over Aaron’s forehead, “go to sleep.”

“Don’t want to,” Aaron says, his words halfway muffled by the pillow, his eyes falling shut slowly. Robert knows the feeling. Occasions where they can just lie in bed together are few and far between, so sleeping feels like wasting valuable time.

“Sweet dreams, Aaron,” Robert whispers and watches as Aaron’s face relaxes. The lines on his forehead disappear, his lips part, his fingers loosen around Robert’s. He’s asleep.

Robert leaves when dawn breaks. He writes Aaron a quick note and leaves it on the pillow Robert slept on, then kisses Aaron’s forehead softly before quietly closing the door behind him.

 

+++

 

The back end of the east wing is where the royal family lives. There are bedrooms and studies, a family library that gets expanded by each generation, a kitchen that rarely gets used except for making a brew and the odd meal and a dining room that looks almost as lavish as the ballroom in the heart of the palace. It’s a separate apartment inside the palace and it has been the host of all the royal families for as long as this palace has been standing. The royal family are assembled in the living room of the royal quarters, Jack and Diane entering through the private entrance and the heads of Andy, Robert and Victoria snap towards the door when it opens.

Vic is the first one to react and skips towards them, embracing their father in a hug. Robert thinks he sees him smile against Vic’s shoulder, but it’s gone when he pulls away. Vic hooks her arm around Jack’s and leads him over to the sofa. Robert isn’t really listening to what Vic is saying to him, watching Jack instead. He doesn’t know what he expected, but Jack looks just like Robert remembers him. He’s not moving any slower than before, there’s no scar or bandage anywhere to indicate that he was hurt, and his skin is the same colour as before. For some reason, it unnerves him. His father almost died but there’s nothing different about him – at least not as far as Robert can tell from looking at him.

The three sofas in the living room are arranged in a big U and they all sit down, facing each other in a circle, the five brews Victoria made standing on the coffee table in the middle. Robert picks up the one standing closest to where he’s sitting and takes a sip. It’s too sweet but he can’t bring himself to care and drinks it anyway, absentmindedly following his family’s conversation. They’re all talking to each other, telling Jack what he missed in the few days he was at the hospital, Jack nodding and smiling at all the appropriate places. Vic is laughing, Andy is grinning and Diane is looking at them with a fond smile on her face. Robert watches and feel like an observer more than anything, as if he’s in someone else’s memory, a prop forgotten on stage after the curtain fell.

Someone calls his name and Robert’s head snaps up, his eyes getting back into focus. Jack is looking at him over the table.

“Robert? What cloud is your head in now, son?” Jack says, laughing, and Robert forces himself to join in.

“You alright, pet?” Diane asks.

“Yeah, good.”

Andy launches into another story, something to do with the head of their gardeners called Doug, who Robert has never heard of before. From what Andy is telling them, Robert thinks he dodged a bullet by not having met this Doug before.

“Robert?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

His father gets up slowly, putting down his empty mug.

“Let’s go to my office, son,” Jack says and beckons Robert to follow him.

“Jack, you’ve only just been back, don’t think about work yet. You have to take it slow, doctor’s orders.”

His father doesn’t seem to pay Diane’s words any mind and keeps walking out of the royal quarters and on to his office. It’s a tense silent between them, only interrupted by the sounds of their heels on the stone floor.

“How did the council meeting go this morning?” His father asks, walking around his desk and sitting on his chair.

“Very well. But you know Prime Minister Finch can handle herself.”

“Where are the transcripts of it?”

“On your desk.” Robert nods at the pile of papers to Jack’s left.

“The visit with the King of Hotton?”

“Went by without a hitch.”

Jack nods, scoots his chair closer to his desk and pulls the transcripts of the council meeting towards him. He starts reading. Still standing in front of him, Robert clutches his hands behind his back to stop the urge to move. His fingernails dig into the palms of his hands as he waits for something, anything. Nothing, is what he gets.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“No.” Jack doesn’t look up from what he’s reading. “You can go now.”

“Don’t you want to know how the kingdom is doing?”

“It’s only been three days, Robert. Even you can’t run this country into the ground in that little time.”

Robert nods, biting the inside of his cheek, a bitter smile on his lips. Just as he opens the door to leave, Jack speaks again. “And tell Andy I want to see him, would you?”

“Yes, dad.”

Robert just about manages not to slam the door behind him.

 

+++

 

There’s a hidden ladder that leads to the roof of the west wing of the palace.

Robert still remembers the day he and Andy found it while playing hide and seek with Victoria and their mum, both of them in a hurry to find a good new hiding spot. Andy had found the porthole on the ceiling on top floor, but Robert had won the scuffle and managed to open it, pull down the ladder, climb up and close it behind him.

Back then, it had taken him a while until he saw the door leading out onto the roof, too busy trying to stay quiet and listening for his mum’s voice step. He remembers crouching down, calming down his breathing so it wouldn’t give him away, his heartbeat hammering in his ear, utter darkness surrounding him. He was pronounced the winner of that round quite quickly after that and he’d come back that very night with a flashlight and opened the door to the roof for the first time.

Now, it’s one of Robert’s favourite places in the palace and he climbs up the ladder every time he needs five minutes to pretend he doesn’t have a tight schedule to keep to and a private life that is under public scrutiny every minute of every day. He’s never been disturbed up there, sitting on the ledge, feet dangling in the air. For all of Andy’s faults, he’s never seemed to have told anybody about his discovery and Robert is silently grateful for it every time he looks down from what feels like the top of the world.

Robert’s favourite spot is half hidden behind a chute, not immediately visible if someone were to find the ladder after all and step through the door leading outside. The ledge he’s sitting on, faces the back of the palace and oversees the garden and the adjacent forest further south. Under his feet is the long staircase that leads down into the garden, bushes and plants and smaller statues lining the gravel path that criss-crosses its way south of the palace, left to right, up and down.

There’s a small maze to the left, a relic from when the palace was first build and the garden was first created, and every time he sees it, he remembers the hours that he would spend with Victoria and Andy playing catch inside of it no matter the weather. The garden ends at its biggest fountain and behind it the forest begins. The stables and the vegetable gardens are somewhere to his right, out of sight.

The sun is sinking lower and lower and paints the world a wide array of warm colours, the sky pink and the passing clouds tinted a fiery orange. It’s both the quiet and the view that keep him coming back here.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Robert’s head snaps around and he grinds his teeth when he sees Andy walking towards him. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, but when he opens them Andy is still there. Not a nightmare then.

“What are you doing here?”

“Got tired of waiting for my invitation to your roof-warming party.”

Robert scoffs at Andy’s attempt at a joke and looks back out at the garden, the sun marking another day’s end. The predictability of the cycle is almost comforting, Robert thinks.

“I’ve never been up here before. It’s nice,” Andy says, voice now much closer than before.

Andy sits down next to him on the ledge of the roof. He’s gripping it so hard that the skin of his hand is pulled taut, knuckles white. Andy crosses his legs instead of letting them dangle like Robert likes to do. When a gust of wind whips around them, Andy makes a sound that sounds very close to a yelp and this time Robert can’t stop the laugh bubbling up in his chest.

Andy looks at him, hair dishevelled from the wind, even more offended than Robert can remember him ever looking before.

“Just ‘cause you’re used to the height, doesn’t mean all of us can be, Robert.”

“I know.” Robert grin. “Doesn’t make this less entertaining, though.”

“Git,” Andy says, looking away from Robert and out over the forest.

The air smells clean in a way that means it rained somewhere nearby and the wind lessens the longer they sit there in silence. Robert knows why he’s here but he doesn’t know why Andy is and why he came to find him here, years after they’ve discovered the place. No matter how long he thinks about it he can’t come up with an answer and it annoys him, feels like splinter under his skin that he can’t seem to find.

“Listen,” Andy begins. His voice sounds careful as if Robert is a sleeping dragon that should not be awoken. “I know you and Dad don’t always get on, but he really does-“

“Andy, I really don’t need you of all people to explain me and dad’s relationship to me.”

“Why are you always so stand-offish with him, anyway?” Andy asks, angry, his voice rising. “He’s busy working and building his legacy in this kingdom, so you can take over a prospering country one day. There’s no need for you to throw a fit every time he doesn’t pay you enough attention.”

In that moment, Robert wishes he had alcohol with him. Preferably something strong. He’s too sober for a repeat performance of this argument they’ve had countless of times before.

“You and I both know full well that Dad would make you his successor if he could. He can’t because of the royal laws so he’s stuck with me. The second-rate son. He used to sound proud of the prospect of me becoming the king, you know? He hasn’t ever since you became part of this family.”

“So … what? You just want him to be proud of you again, Robert, is that it? You really think he isn’t already? Of course he is.”

 _Showing it would go a long way_ , Robert thinks, but it’s been a long day and he’s tired and especially tired of arguing with Andy.

“Just leave it, Andy. Just go.”

“You’re unbelievable, Rob.”

The muscles in Robert’s jaw twitch. “I said go.”

Thankfully, Andy listens to him this time. Robert sighs once he’s alone again and watches as the sun disappears behind the horizon, bit by bit.

 

+++

 

“So even though you took the majority of His Majesty’s meetings when he got sick, your day today is quite free actually.”

 **Aaron** [8.54am] thought i could go visit liv next weekend

 **You** [8.54am] Yeah? How’s she doing?

 **Aaron** [8.55am] fine  
 **Aaron** [8.55am] you know driving her mum mad but i think she’s good

 **You** [8.55am] Glad to hear it

“Debbie still hasn’t synched Andy’s diary even though I’ve told her a million times she has to have it done by 9am the latest. Does she think that really means 9am? I mean it’s pretty obvious the rest of us put them up at 8.30am so why can’t she just go with the flow? Why your father let her stay on as Andy’s PA will always remain a mystery to me. She should have been fired ages ago.”

 **You** [8.57am] Tell her I said hi when you see her

 **Aaron** [8.58am] yeah i’ll just tell her prince robert says hi that’s definitely gonna be an easy one to explain

“Are you going to start listening to what I’m saying some time today or should I just carry on?”

 **You** [9.00am] You could tell her, you know?

He hits _send_ before he can think too long about it and change his mind. Still, the palms of his hands grow clammy and he has to take a deep breath to release the tension in his chest. For a moment he can hear his heart beat in his head and it feels like it might explode, but he can’t bring himself to regret it. He thinks he might never regret anything that has to do with Aaron.

“I’m giving you another minute but if you’re still ignoring me then I’m going to take some drastic measures, I can promise you that. I don’t care if you’re the prince of this country.”

 **Aaron** [9.01am] what and you’d be fine with it?

Robert reads the message. Reads it again. Reads it a third time.

“You know, considering how much you seem to use that thing, I’m starting to feel really insulted that you never answer any of my texts.”

Robert jumps in his seat because she is speaking right next to his ear and he scrambles to turn off the screen of his phone. Leyla is laughing. She’s full on laughing at him. Robert tries to look offended but her laugh is too contagious for him to stick to it for too long.

“You should have seen your face,” she giggles. “Prince Robert the comedy gold.”

“Glad you had your fun,” Robert says, not quite managing to be cross with her.

“That must’ve been quite an intense conversation if I made you jump like that.”

“You could say that.”

“Ugh. Spare me, Robert. Please.”

“What?”

“Are you telling me you weren’t sexting just now?”

“No, I wasn’t. I can’t believe you’d think that, frankly.”

“Yeah, right,” Leyla says and sits back down in front of him on the other side of his desk. “Can we get back to work now?”

“Yeah, ‘course. Sorry I didn’t pay attention.”

“I’ll let you off the hook this one time. If it ever happens again…”

She lets the sentence hang in the air unfinished but Robert knows full well what she is going to say. Robert has gotten used to having her at his disposal and without Leyla’s organisational skills, he’d be lost. He’s good at the business itself, keeping guests happy, making deals, attending council meetings, but organising them and being at the right place at the right time is not always his strength.

Robert nods and pockets his phone, facing her.

“So,” she starts, diary and tablet in front of her, “what’s the last thing you remember me saying?”

“I think that was _Good morning, Robert_.”

To Robert’s surprise Leyla manages to lean forward so quickly that he doesn’t see the slap on his upper arm coming. He opens his mouth to complain but shuts it again. Leyla did warm him, Robert silently admits.

“The last thing I remember is you saying that Debbie is the worst PA we’ve ever had.”

“That’s more like it,” Leyla says, raising her index finger. She flips through her tablet for a second then returns her attention to Robert.

“First things first: the ball is this Saturday. Do you want me to organise a plus one or are you okay with going alone?”

“No, I’ll go alone.”

“Alright,” Leyla says, grabbing a pen and crossing off something in the diary.

“There’s not much going on today. Your brother is attending the ambassador’s dinner in town together with Victoria. The king is in council meetings all day doing the budgets. Diane is …” Leyla’s eyes narrow as she looks at the tablet. “knitting for charity apparently.”

Robert raises his eyebrows at the same time that Leyla does.

“The rest is quite uninteresting, really, but Ronnie is back from holiday so you can go see him today if you wanted to. Your morning is free.”

“How quickly can he be here?”

“I don’t know,” Leyla says, shrugging. “I can ask when I call him.”

Robert rubs his fingers over his chin. “No, let me call him. I’ll ask.”

“Alright, I’ll send you his number. Then you can check your precious phone again.”

He rolls his eyes but takes the phone out of the pocket of his jacket. He only looks at the screen for a second when the message from Leyla pops up.

“Thanks. Is that all?”

“For now, yes.”

Standing up, he turns off the screen and bids Leyla goodbye before leaving the room. He starts walking back towards his chambers, unlocks his screen and there is Aaron’s message again, staring at him. He stops in his tracks and stares at the grey bubble and continues staring until his sight blurs.

From the beginning of their thing secrecy had been his credo and Aaron had been more than understanding. Robert doesn’t know what possessed him to suggest telling other people even just Aaron’s little sister. He can’t deny that sometimes Robert wants to shout it from the rooftops so the whole world knows about him and Aaron, but those are the moments where Robert imagines how things could be if he wasn’t who he is. He never pursues that thought any further since it’s futile and Aaron’s company in the here and now is usually enough to keep those thoughts away. But would it really be that bad if people knew?

Robert doesn’t find an answer to that question in the time until he hears footsteps approaching from around the corner and he remembers he’s staring at his phone in the middle of a hallway while staying completely still.

 

+++

 

When Robert opens the door that leads from his chambers out into the hallway of the upper floor in the east wing, he can already hear the faraway music of a string quartet and chatter that a big crowd of people always brings with it.  He checks his cufflinks as he walks closer to the commotion, the acoustic level rising with each step he takes. Since it’s a busy night in the palace, there are guards posted on almost every corner so guests don’t accidentally on purpose get into parts of the palace they shouldn’t. Robert nods at the two of them that are standing at the end of the hallway.

Walking down the stairs, he sees a few guests lingering about, mingling, most of them a flute of champagne in their hands, and dressed to the nines in suits and floor-length ball dresses, some of them with masks some of them without. He doesn’t recognise any of them but they recognise him. The ones that see him greet him with a Good evening, Your Highness and one woman in a lilac dress even curtsies. Years of learning royal etiquette tells him he should stop and greet them, shake hands and learn names, but he’s late already and can’t afford the waste any more time.

He continues straight ahead towards the main entrance of the ballroom and is grateful to see that not many people are standing in the back and that most of them are standing with their backs to Robert. They’re all looking at the dais at the back of the room, occupying the entire length of the wall, five chairs standing on it, the tallest one in the middle for the king. There’s a long, historic scroll in the royal museum in town that describes which member of the royal family gets to sit where and in which case they can make exceptions. Robert remembers the first time his father had told him about it and read it to Robert. He didn’t pay it too much mind back then since he thought trivial things such as a seating order hadn’t been worthy of his attention, but Jack had quickly disabused him of that notion.

There are two side entrances on each wall at right angles with the dais, with the same double doors as the main entrance, except they’re slightly smaller and the carving on the wooden doors are less intricate.

Robert wants to stay for a while and look at the room even he doesn’t get to see very often, look at the tapestry, the red and gold border going all around the room, but he can’t. He’s being expected.

There are hallways leaving further into the palace on each side of the ballroom and Robert takes a step back and turns, walking through the hallway on the right. The noise of the party first dims before it increases again as Robert approaches the open doors of the side entrance. He passes it as fast as possible as to not be seen, and stops in front of an old, inconspicuous door and knocks three times before opening it.

The small room behind it is located right behind the dais in the ballroom and has a door that leads directly to it. The thick walls cancel out the noise from the ballroom but Robert thinks it might be just as busy and loud in here. Victoria is sitting in a chair in front of a mirror, getting the finishing touches of make up on her face, talking to Diane who’s sitting down as well. Andy is standing there talking to Debbie while, their conversation looking rather serious from where Robert is standing. His father and Frank are there as well standing close to Andy and Debbie, dressed meticulously, no crease or lint anywhere on him.

Robert wants to make his way over to his sister, but his father steps in front of him and stops him in his tracks. Robert is speaking before his father can say anything.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You should be. You’re delaying the whole procedure.”

“Oh, Jack,” Diane says, appearing on Jack’s left and sound a lot more cheerful than Robert could ever muster, “we’ve still got a couple of minutes. No need to stress him.”

His father looks at him, scrutinising, and Robert holds the eye contact, even though the disappointment in Jack’s eyes makes him want to not only look away, but leave the room.

“Robert!” Victoria calls and both their eyes fly to her as she stands up and thanks the woman who caps the lipstick in her hands that she’s clearly just put on Vic.

“Excuse me,” Robert mumbles and he can’t help but smile when he sees his little sister.

“You look incredible,” Robert says. Vic grins and does a twirl in her dress. It’s a strapless silver dress that flows to the floor softly like water and she looks like she’s floating while she turns. She’s holding a matching silver mask in her hand. Her hair is done up in an elegant bun, but her face is the most radiating thing about her. She’s positively glowing.

“I hope you’re going to save a dance for me later.”

“For my big brother? I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” Victoria winks at him, then walks over to Diane.

Barely a moment passes until there’s a knock from outside against the door that leads on the dais in the ballroom. It’s their sign – the ball is starting. Jack stands right behind the door and opens it a crack, not enough to see from the other side, but enough for them to hear the announcer.

It’s been almost thirty years but Robert is still not used to the volume of the fanfares when they resound. He resists the temptation to cover his ears because he knows the fanfare is only a few seconds long, and the two seconds of silence afterwards ring in his ears. The time stretches and drags until he hears footsteps that tell Robert that the Master of Ceremonies, Sandy Thomas, is walking onto the dais. Despite his age, his voice reaches every corner of the room without any difficulty.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear guests,” he begins, “His Majesty King Jack of Emmerdale and his wife, Her Majesty Queen Diane of Emmerdale.”

The guests applaud and someone outside opens the door properly. Jack holds out his elbow towards Diane and she takes the offer, linking their arms together before they walk through the door and onto the dais.

“His and Her Majesty’s children His Highness Prince Robert of Emmerdale, His Highness Prince Andrew of Emmerdale and Her Highness Princess Victoria of Emmerdale.”

Sandy steps aside just as they walk out, one after the other, and they all stand in front of their assigned thrones. Jack in the middle, Robert to Jack’s left, Diane to his right, Victoria to Diane’s right and Andy to Robert’s left. He takes a moment to let his eyes sweep the room again, looking at the faces, some of them covered some not, hoping that Aaron is one of them, but his search comes up empty.

When the fanfares resound once again, the royal family sits down in a synchronicity brought on by years of practice. There’s a moment’s pause before Jack speaks up.

“Dear ladies and gentlemen, dear guests at our royal court. I am happy to welcome you all to this year’s masquerade ball. I see some of you have already implemented the motto and I hope in a few minutes the rest of you will follow suit – it is for charity after all.”

Someone in the back of the ballroom starts clapping and it only takes a blink until the rest of the room joins. Jack nods and raises his palms.

“Tonight isn’t just for the sake of celebrating but the annual charity gala takes place so we can shed some light on some worthy causes especially the Royal Charity Fund. So please have a look around the atrium just outside this room and consider if you want to help these charities continue the great work that they’re doing.”

Jack grabs his mask out of his jacket pocket before he continues. “In the hopes that you will contribute to our causes, I wish you a good evening.”

Applause erupts again and this time Robert joins in, long enough to be polite, until he takes his own masks and puts it on his face, securing it with the elastic around his head. When they all walk down the steps of the dais a few moments later, wearing the mask, a string quartet Robert didn’t notice before starts playing. Vivaldi, Robert recognises. How ordinary.

What follows is a game that Robert is well familiar with and that he’s been playing for a while. He meets acquaintances old and new, the heads of a few charities, ambassadors from close and far away, their own diplomats, and the kind of citizens that sometimes convene in the same social circles as the royals. Jack introduces him to more people than usual and he has to start coming up with little memory hooks to remember name and status by the fourth important princess or scholar he meets. When he thinks he can afford it, he risks a glance around. He hasn’t spotted Aaron yet and there’s a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that he won’t come after all. Robert tries not to think about it and goes back to joining the conversation at hand.

Robert doesn’t know how exactly much time passes like this, making conversation about business, politics, the kingdom, and life before he finally sees an out. The first thing he does is grab a flute of champagne from a trey that one of the waiters is circling the ballroom with. He drowns half of it in one go, although it doesn’t help much against his dry throat, but he doesn’t care. Alcohol is just as good as far as Robert is concerned.

He’s only alone for a moment until he sees Leyla approaching him. She’s wearing a white dress that on any other day could pass as a wedding dress and heels that are higher than Robert thinks can be healthy. Her mask is made out of white lace and matches her dress and Robert wonders how she pulls it off without looking out of place.

“Leyla,” Robert greets her, tipping his champagne towards her in greeting.

“Your Highness,” she says mockingly, raising her drink as well. “I hope you’re having a good night.”

“It’s been …” Robert wants to say _disappointing_ but he won’t be able to explain why exactly, so he leaves it. “It’s been dull if I’m honest.”

“Shame I can’t say the same, isn’t it?” She steps closer towards him. “Do you see that guard standing to your right?”

The guard snaps his eyes away from them just as Robert turn their heads in his direction and Leyla starts laughing, loud and contagious so that Robert can’t help but join. It might be hard telling from the distance but Robert thinks he sees a blush on the guard’s cheeks. When he looks at the rest of his face, he recognises that he’s the same guard that was posted in front of his father’s hospital room the other week.

“He’s been staring at me all night, the poor sod. I’m debating what I should do.”

“His name is Barton I think.”

“D’you know him?” Leyla asks, eyes wide in surprise.

“No,” Robert says, putting his free hand in his pocket, “I only remembered his name.”

“I see,” Leyla says, raising her glass to her lips and taking a sip while looking at the guard again.

Using Leyla’s state of distraction, Robert looks for Aaron among the flushed faces. To his back left is one of the side entrances of the ballroom and then the dais, Victoria sitting on her throne and talking to a child who’s on eye level with Vic this way. His sister is looking at the girl fondly, holding her hands while talking to her. He wants to get the story to that later on, he thinks. On the wall above the dais hangs a huge tapestry with Emmerdale’s emblem stitched into it, burgundy red and gold, with a sheep and a lion peacefully getting along. The symbol of the royal family uniting the country one upon a time.

The three chandeliers hanging down from the ceiling glow in their own light and sparkle whenever you move around them. They’re the biggest chandeliers in the castle and it’s a sight that impresses even Robert. Like a string of fairy lights, lanterns wrap around the ballroom, illuminating it further, the candles inside flickering and spreading soft light around them like a halo.

“Megan and Chas have really outdone themselves, haven’t they?”

“Chas?” Robert asks.

“Yeah,” Leyla says, sipping on her drink, “she’s the Head of House, remember? Her and Megan organised this together.”

Robert takes a second look around the ballroom and he doesn’t know why exactly, but Aaron’s reluctance to come is amusing now he knows his mother co-organised it.

“What are you smirking at?” Leyla sounds almost appalled.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve still got work to do, you know? I wouldn’t be smirking if I was you.”

She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t mean they both have to be stuck with work. “Come on Leyla, take the night off. Have some fun. You’re always thinking about work.”

“But you’ve still got to talk to the-“

“I know. And I will. I’ll manage without you for a night, I promise.”

Leyla looks at him considering, quiet for a moment. “Robert, if I get sacked because you didn’t show up to the photo session, I’m going to murder you, yeah? Just so you know.”

Robert tries to look as serious as possible. “Go Leyla. Go get the guard.”

She smiles at him. Raising the index finger of the hand she’s holding her drink with, she points to the guard still standing to Robert’s right. He would bet real money that he’s looking at them right now.

He tips two of his fingers against his temple, saluting her, and she saunters away. He looks after her as she looks around and pretends to be interested in everything and anything that’s not the guard she’s walking towards. Robert scoffs and shakes his head, and it suddenly hits him how much he wants Aaron to be here. Robert feels his face fall but he’s in public and he can’t afford it. He inhales deeply and plasters a smile on his face before walking to the bar set up just outside the main entrance to the ballroom for the night. Only having had one glass of champagne so far, Robert orders a whiskey, and hopes imploringly that nobody is going to engage him in a conversation.

The bartender grins so hard when she hands over the tumbler with Robert’s drink that Robert suspects this is going to turn into a story she’s going to tell everybody she meets. She served whiskey to Prince Robert. The thought is amusing so he smiles at her before he turns and walks back towards the ballroom entrance. Robert is only halfway between the bar and the ballroom when he stops in his tracks and finally spots him.

His suit is almost the same shade of blue as his eyes, a white shirt and a tie that Robert wouldn’t let near his wardrobe in a million years, and Robert is most surprised to see that he’s really wearing a plain white half-mask that hides his eyes and nose. He looks good, Robert thinks, really good. He hopes that nobody is looking at him right in this moment because there is not a way he could hide the feelings in his chest mirroring showing on his face.

Aaron is standing next a bar table that’s right inside the ballroom next to the Grand entrance, his profile turned to Robert, seemingly ignoring a couple standing on the other side having a heated discussion. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his shoulders. It wouldn’t surprise Robert if Aaron deliberately chose the table closest to the door. However, a mix of gratefulness and affection swirls in Robert’s chest at the sight. It means something that Aaron came. It has to.

Robert adjusts his black mask and tries his hardest not to walk faster than he did before he saw Aaron.

Stopping when he stands behind Aaron, Robert leans forward so that his lips are right next to Aaron’s ears.

“Good evening, Mister Dingle.”

Aaron startles and turns around quicker than Robert expected, fist raised ready to throw a punch if needed, but he quickly lets his hands sink again when he recognises who it is. Robert still takes a step back.

“Sorry, Aaron. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Rob- Your Highness,” Aaron says, looking around as if he forgot that they were in public. Robert knows the feeling because he wants to kiss Aaron to apologise, but the couple on the other side of the bar table is staring at them now, making him painfully aware that he can’t.

He compromises hand holds out his hand for Aaron to shake. Confusion rolls over Aaron’s face, but he takes Robert’s hand anyway. Robert meets Aaron’s eyes and holds on and holds on, shakes his hand for much longer than is appropriate. The lack of their usual privacy makes a simple handshake feel more intimate than it usually is, and has he drowns in the blue of Aaron’s eyes, he tightens his fingers around Aaron’s hand and wishes he could hold on.

When the string quartet finishes the piece they’ve been playing, the people around them start clapping. It makes Robert snap out of his reverie and he lets go, his hand falling down, his palm prickling with remnants of Aaron’s touch.

“You’re late,” Robert says.

Aaron smiles. “Thought I’d come fashionably late.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Even if you’re late.”

“Fashionably late.”

“In your dreams, Aaron.”

Robert takes a sip of his drink and sets the glass down on the bar table. The couple standing there before disappeared without him noticing and he’s glad that they’re a little less crowded, even just a little.

They could just go, Robert thinks. Lose the crowd people around them entirely. They should in fact. Just go.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“You what?”

“Let’s go.”

“Robert, you can’t just leave. You’re the bloody prince.”

“It may come as a surprise for you,” Robert says, empties his tumbler and setting it down again, “but I know I am.”

Aaron’s eyebrows are drawn together in uncertainty but Robert sees the mischief tugging on the corners of Aaron’s mouth. Robert raises one eyebrow questioningly and Aaron nods in reply.

Robert gestures Aaron’s to follow him and leaves the ball, turns left through the atrium then left again into the hallway, listening to the footsteps of Aaron behind him. As soon as they’re out of eyesight of most guests, Robert takes off his mask and puts it in his pocket, letting himself fall back so he’s walking next to Aaron. He nods towards the guards at the back of the palace, nodding at them and leading Aaron even further back. After another long and wide corridor, they reach the tall glass doors that lead into the garden.

It’s a clear night at the end of summer, the days hot but the nights cold. The moon shines brightly onto the bushes and plants, throwing strange shadows on the earth. Aaron takes Robert’s hand as they walk down the stairs into the garden. It feels like a shot of electricity up his arm and warms his stomach all at once. He looks at Aaron’s face properly for the first time that night since he took his mask off a moment ago, and speeds up their descent until they reach the last step. Robert leads them left to the end of the wide stairs turns and walks until they reach the corner between the staircase and the wall of the palace.

Robert barely gives Aaron time to blink before he pushes him against the wall of the palace, pausing only for a second before he kisses him. Aaron doesn’t lose any time and kisses right back, hands finding Robert’s hip and the back of Robert’s head.

There are quick and heated pecks between them to begin with, but when Robert nips lightly on Aaron’s bottom lip, Aaron lets out a small gasp that Robert takes full advantage of and dives into Aaron’s mouth, drinks him in, moaning against the sensation. Aaron’s fingers desperately grasp Robert’s neck and fingers his hair as he pushes his entire body against Robert’s, his hands brushing up under the jacket of Aaron’s suit.

Aaron nibbles and sucks and licks at Robert’s mouth, and Robert loses himself in the way he runs his tongue over Robert’s lower lip. Robert’s lips leave Aaron’s to kiss his neck, and the moan Aaron releases this time is loud and clear when Robert’s hot breath teases the wet trail of his kisses. Aaron bites softly at Robert’s ear as he continues the kisses, debating if he should leave a love bite or not, and it takes Robert’s breath away quite literally. Robert pushes Aaron harder against the wall and they both sigh, their lips finding together again, sharing breath and heat.

As much as Robert wants to continue kissing Aaron into all of eternity, his lungs are burning with too little oxygen and he breaks their lips apart, looking at how the moonlight illuminates Aaron’s flushed cheeks, his chest rising and falling just as fast as Robert’s. Robert cups Aaron’s cheek, kissing the tip of his nose before he leans his forehead against Aaron’s

They’re so close, so close that Robert suddenly feels the words on his lips. He wants to let them escape, wants to let Aaron know, but the same thing that makes him want to say them also holds him back.

There are unspoken rules for this thing between them. Routines and habits neither of them has dared to break and Robert doesn’t think he has what it takes to be the first one to break them. There is so much that could be broken irreparably and Robert is not willing to put this delicate thing between them in danger.

Even though his mind knows all these things, his heart and mouth seem to have a will of their own.

“I love you,” Robert whispers and it spreads around them in a foggy, white breath in the night time.

The words feel like a loose thread on a sweater that he couldn’t resist pulling even though he knows it could make everything around him unravel and collapse.

Time seems to stand still, completely frozen, as he waits for what is going to happen next. His eyes are squeezed shut and Robert feels the cold, chilling cold, when Aaron pulls back. Robert doesn’t dare to open his eyes. He lets his hand fall away from the side of Aaron’s neck and regrets, wishing he had kept the words inside.

There’s nothing and then there’s Aaron’s hand cradling Robert’s cheek. Warm and familiar. Robert opens his eyes. Aaron is looking at Robert but his expression is not one Robert expected. It’s not panicked or sneering, but soft and fond, everything that Aaron always is when he’s with Robert.

“I thought it was just me,” Aaron whispers. His heart starts racing before his brain catches up with the implication in Aaron’s words and Robert’s eyes widen.

“It’s not, Aaron.” He swallows. “I love you.”

Aaron kisses him, light and lingering, smiles when he pulls back. “Me too.”

It’s like the words lift a ban on Robert’s tense body, feeling running back into him, so many different feelings that he can’t sort through them fast enough to label one. Robert pulls on the lapels of Aaron’s jacket, pulls him back, their lips clashing together desperately. Robert smiles into the kiss and feels Aaron do the same. It bubbles up inside of him and boils over into kisses and whispers and touches.

It takes them a while until they to go back to the ball and even longer until Robert stops replaying the moment in his head while he’s going back to work.

 

+++

 

 **Leyla Harding** [4.45pm] I don’t know where you are but you better be in my office in 15 minutes!  
 **Leyla Harding** [4.45pm] Otherwise we’re going to be late for the laying of the cornerstone

“You have to go, don’t you?” Aaron asks, staring at the phone in Robert’s hand.

“We have a little time,” Robert says. He puts his phone back into his pocket and his hands return to their place around Aaron’s waist. Aaron’s lips are soft under Robert’s when they kiss again.

They’re once again interrupted when Robert gets another text. He doesn’t need to look at it to know who it is. Robert rolls his eyes and for some reason Aaron smiles at him for it.

“I should leave too,” Aaron says. “I wanna get there before it’s dark”

“Alright,” Robert sighs. He steps back so Aaron can open the door of his car they’ve been leaning against. “Drive safe.”

Aaron leaves the door wide open and sits on the driver’s seat, his feet dangling centimetres over the floor of the garage. He looks up at Robert, glances at his lips, and Robert bends down for a kiss, one hand on the door of the car, one hand on Aaron’s neck.

“I love you,” Robert whispers against Aaron’s lips.

“I’ll miss you,” Aaron says and it tingles in Robert’s lips. Bending up again, Robert smiles.

“Drive safe. Have fun with Liv.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you.”

“You better.”

Aaron pulls his feet in and starts the ending as Robert pushes the door shut. Robert stands and watches as Aaron drives out of the garage. Robert feels ridiculous and juvenile for him but he can already feel the ache of missing Aaron right there next to his heart. He scoffs and takes out his phone again, unlocking the screen and checks his messages.

 **Leyla Harding** [4.47pm] !!!

 **You** [4.50pm] I’m coming.

 

+++

 

“You wanted to see me, dad?” Robert asks, standing in front of his father’s desk, hands in his pockets.

“Yes,” Jack says and finishes the sentence he’s writing on paper, then puts the pen down, leans back in his chair and looks at Robert. Silence lies heavy between them until Jack speaks.

“I’ve worked for this kingdom all my life and you know how much it means to me.”

Jack waits until Robert acknowledges him with a nod before he continues.

“But I’m almost 70 years old. As much as I want to be king until I die, that day might come sooner than I like. My heart attack has made me realise that.”

It’s not like his father to skirt around the point he’s trying to make so confusion fogs his efforts to figure out what he’s trying to say. For a split second, Robert wonders if Jack is thinking about retiring and plans on crowning Robert sooner than expected, but he dismisses the thought.

“Before anything happens to me, I need to know that my kingdom will be secure and I need to know that you can lead this country once I’m gone.”

“You know I can, dad. I’ve been trained for it for as long as I can think.”

“You might know all there is to know about reigning over the country, but that doesn’t automatically make you a good king, son. Experience matters. You have none.”

His first instinct is to argue with his father but he bites his tongue. Objectively, Robert knows he’s right, but it stings. Especially with his father’s disapproving gaze settled on him. Jack leans forward with his elbows on the desk.

“A good king makes hard decision and sticks with it. He makes decisions for the future good of the country. He makes decisions for others and for himself.”

Jack’s finger tips on the paper in front of him a handful of times before he speaks again. Robert feels like his father is tapping out his heartbeat.

“Do you remember the women I introduced you to at the ball last week?”

The sudden change of the conversation throws Robert off and it takes him longer to collect himself than he’d like. “You have to be a little more specific than that. You introduced me to a lot of women.”

“You’re going to meet them again, anyway, so it doesn’t matter that you don’t remember.”

Robert frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Son, I want you to go out with these women and choose one to marry. This way we can strengthen diplomatic relationships and secure the future of the kingdom.”

Robert wants to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat on the way out. He feels his skin run cold as if he’s been shoved into the forest in deepest winter completely naked even though he sees his father’s office and feels the clothes against his skin.

“You don’t mean that. You’re joking. Badly, I might add.”

“I am certainly not.”

“Marry?” Robert says, his voice getting louder, disbelieving. “Marry someone of your choosing, I’m guessing?”

Jack doesn’t take his eyes off Robert, assessing, and Robert wishes he could punch something. “Marry and produce an heir.”

Robert raises his hand but forgets why a second later and lets it fall again. He looks around the room, looking for something out of place, something that could tell him that this is just a bad dream. He doesn’t find anything. The air feels thin all of a sudden and a breath doesn’t hold enough oxygen to satisfy his lungs. He takes a deeper breath than before and it doesn’t help. He feels his fingers start to shake. In anger or in panic, he doesn’t know. Robert laughs in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight,” Robert says. “You want me to marry some stranger and get her up the duff as quickly as possible so you get an heir and what? The throne line is secured?”

“Precisely.”

“No.”

“No?” Jack asks, his eyebrows raised, as if it’s only occurring to him now that Robert might not be fine with the idea.

“No, I’m not doing this.”

“This isn’t a suggestion, Robert.”

“I don’t care!” Robert yells and it’s only then that he realises just how angry he is. His chest is heaving rapidly with the breaths he’s taking, his hands clammy and shaking. He almost scares himself with it.

Jack scoffs, shaking his head. Robert clenches his teeth, trying to get himself under control again, but it’s hard when he sees some of his own anger reflected in his father’s face.

“I’m not starting a family because you’re scared of your ticker giving out! You’re out of your mind! ”

Jack gets out of his seat and leans his hands on the desk, looming over Robert even though Robert is standing.

“I’m not having this country go to rack and ruin simply because you refuse this matter.”

“Refuse? You make it sound like I’m a child throwing a tantrum when you’re asking-“

“No, you’re an _adult_ throwing a tantrum. Stop it.”

“Oh, no,” Robert says, a deprecating smile on his lips. “You’re not doing this.”

“Doing what? Trying to make you see sense?”

“Pretend like I’m completely unreasonable for reacting the way I am!”

“You are being unreasonable, Robert.”

Jack straightens up, but Robert feels no less small than before.

“I’m not! You’re asking me to throw my private life away for your peace of mind.”

“Not my peace of mind, but for the future of his kingdom. A good king has to learn to make sacrifices. You’re just starting your duties early.”

Robert puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. Even though it seems as his father couldn’t be more serious about his proposal, Robert still has trouble believing it. He’s still waiting to wake up and to feel relieved when it turns out that all this was just a bad dream.

“What about Andy’s kids?”

“You know the royal laws as well as I do,” Jake says, voice rising. “Whether I like it or not, Andy can never be king. The royal laws forbid it and I can’t change them. His children will never be legitimate heirs.”

Robert hears what Jack isn’t saying. Hears that his father wishes he could change the laws, but the royal laws are part of the constitution and he can’t change the constitution without a supermajority which he doesn’t have.

“No,” Robert says once again, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, “I can’t do this.”

“You have to, Robert,” Jack says, voice deep and firm. “Don’t make me turn this into an order.”

Robert feels the pressure behind his eyes build. He needs to get out of here. _Flight flight flight_ his instinct yells at him.

“So, you’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“No.”

Robert nods and feels the tears build and without a word leaves his father’s study.

The first thing he does after the door falls closed behind him is loosening the knot of his tie and walks away as fast as he can without breaking into a jog. He doesn’t remember how he gets there, but his feet carry him to the latter and up the room, the wind cooling the sweat on his skin and he wishes and wishes that Aaron was there next to him.

 

+++

 

 **You** [6.06am] Can you cancel or reschedule my meetings today? I need the day off.

 **Leyla Harding** [6.30am] You alright?

 **You** [6.31am] Fine  
**You** [6.31am] I’m just not feeling to well. Stomach bug, I think.

 **Leyla Harding** [6.35am] Do you want me to bring you some of Marlon’s chicken soup?

 **You** [6.35am] No, you’re alright.

 **Leyla Harding** [6.37am] Get well soon then!  
**Leyla Harding** [6.38am] I’ll check on you tonight to see if you’re up for it tomorrow

 **You** [6.39am] Thanks

 

+++

 

The whole process starts sooner than he expects.

It’s only four days later that Leyla tells him that there are several dates scheduled in his diary, curtesy of His Majesty. Robert sees the questioning look she sends him, but she knows Robert well enough that she doesn’t ask directly. He’s silently grateful for it. He doesn’t think he could talk about the why and the how without containing the anger still running through him and snapping at her.

Most of Robert’s day is reserved for meeting women that Jack approves of enough to consider letting them give the kingdom a future and continue the Sugden line. They all come to the palace and meet Robert in one of the rooms on the first floor of the west wing that are sparely decorated. They sit down at a table, eat or have snacks, a drink or tea and do mostly small talk. They’re in his company for about an hour before Leyla rescues him, pretending to fetch him for an important meeting.

When Robert isn’t using all his energy to keep his press-smile plastered on his face or to think of topics of conversation, he is surprised that the six women he meets are not ones that Robert would have necessarily expected his father to choose. They’re from different backgrounds, business owners, princesses, even a young teacher from the academy of music. Considering Jack talked about this strengthening diplomatic bonds, Robert has a feeling Jack has already chosen who he wants to be Robert’s wife and is only doing this as an alibi. That on the other hand, wouldn’t surprise Robert in the slightest. Robert getting a choice in something would be a first where his father is concerned.

The only thing they all do have in common, is that they’re upper class girls around his age that either come from families with prestige or are well educated or both. And that they’re not Aaron.

Aaron, he can’t help thinking about the entire time he has to sit there and talk to women he’s supposed to marry but can’t see a future with.

There’s an unanswered text from Aaron on Robert’s phone that Robert hasn’t looked at yet. It’s strangely comforting to always see the notification there, regularly popping up, reminding him that he hasn’t read it yet, let alone answered. It’s a simple text informing Robert that Aaron is coming back in two days but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He doesn’t know what to say. That he’s excited to see him? That Robert’s world had flipped on its head in the week that Aaron was gone? That he feels as if there’s something sharp and terrifying lodged in his chest ever since his father’s announcement? That he feels the need to explain everything to Aaron but can’t for the fear of losing him? He doesn’t know. So, he doesn’t answer.

 

+++

 

“Ready?”

“Yes,” Robert says. He puts his right foot in front of him, pointing forward, his left foot behind him pointing left. He bends his knees slightly so they’re in one line with his toes, then stretches out his right arm and checks his hold on his foil. Trying to focus on the fight ahead, he takes a deep breath.

“En garde.”

Ronnie barely has finished the command when Robert advances, leading with his dominant front leg and finishing with his back leg. He almost manages to make Ronnie retreat the seven meters from the centre line to the rear limit of the fencing piste before he parries Robert’s attempt on a hit and uses the strength of Robert’s own blade to counter the attack with a riposte. The buzzer above them sounds and Ronnie’s side of the field lights up. A point for Ronnie.

They go back to their starting lines, back into starting position.

“En garde.”

The game begins again.

This time Ronnie advances and Robert retreats, parrying two of Ronnie’s attacks, snarling when he doesn’t manage to score points with a riposte both times. Then Ronnie lunges and scores another point against him. He feels sweat starting to build now, his breathing coming faster.

“Pay attention to your footwork, Robert. You’re sloppy.”

He feels the beginning of frustration creep up on him, but shakes it off. He came here to forget and not to be frustrated. Fencing usually clears his head, the sport requiring agility and stamina and tactical finesse that makes his muscles ache and leaves his head pleasantly empty after a long day. Robert will be damned if it doesn’t do the same this time.

They go back to their starting points, take position and start again. “En garde.”

With new resolve, Robert attacks, advancing quickly, minding his feet, his eyes focusing on Ronnie’s torso.  He forces Ronnie back until the warning line, two meters before the rear end of the piste before he lunges. Ronnie turns his torso away from Robert’s foil impressively fast for his age and Robert feels resistance against his foil, then moves his arm so he can hit Ronnie’s ribs from the side just as Robert feels a hit against his own torso. The buzzer sounds again and both sides of the field light up.

Relief floods Robert for a moment, chasing the slowly billowing doubts away, then Ronnie calls _three - nil_ and the relief is gone as fast as it came.

“That’s my point,” Robert protests.

“It’s not,” Ronnie says, much calmer sounding than Robert, taking off his mask. Robert follows him.

“But I landed the hit and you didn’t-”

“You did land one. But I had the right of way, so it’s my point. That’s one of the first things I taught you.”

“You didn’t have the right of way, I did, I was advancing.” His words come out more aggressive then he wants them to but he doesn’t think he could have controlled it even if he wanted to.

“I parried your hit, Robert. The right of way switched over to me. It’s my point.”

Robert wants to argue more, but Ronnie is already putting his mask back on and walking past Robert to the starting line. He swallows his frustration at his own performance, or he tries to at least. “You’re not concentrating properly,” Ronnie says, getting into position. “You’re making rookie mistakes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Robert says, raising his foil.

“En garde.”

Robert decides to take it slow this time, advances, retreats, advances, retreats. He looks Ronnie up and down trying to gauge what his next step is going to be, if he’s going to wait for Robert to attack or if he is going to attack himself.

In a snap decision, Robert advances one step, two, and aims for Ronnie’s chest. For a second, Robert thinks that he’s going to land a hit, but then he feels a resistance deviating his foil from its intended path. Almost in slow motion he sees the other foil coming towards him and hitting him in his shoulder. The other side of the field lights up.

With an angry yell Robert throws away his foil and rips the fencing masks off his head. He stares on the floor, his fists clenched, knuckles white, as he tries not to punch whatever is closest. It’s silent in the room apart from the air rushing out of his lungs. A bead of sweat runs down his temple and he squeezes his eyes shut. The rush of anger is leaving him and all Robert can feel afterwards is coldness and embarrassment. He opens his eyes, shoves it away. His heart calms down and Robert wishes he could disappear.

“Fencing is not a sport you can win with brute force alone. It’s not a sport you can let out your frustrations with. Take a breath, concentrate, try again and _focus_.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Robert mutters, bending down to pick up his mask.

“How’s is easy for me?” Ronnie asks, crossing his arms, looking all too knowing. It raises his hackles.

“You’re not the who has to-“ He stops himself. Because he doesn’t want Ronnie to know, because he simply can’t say the words.

“Has to do what?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Well, maybe you should,” Ronnie says, firm and insisting. “Because you can’t go on like this. With all that anger inside of you. I noticed it the second you walked through the door half an hour ago.”

“What do you want? A medal?”

“I’ve got enough of those, ta.” He points his thumb at his face. “Olympic silver-medallist, remember?”

Robert huffs a laugh and most of the anger from before evaporates. It makes his body feel lighter and it leaves only fatigue in its wake. Robert sits down, rests his arms on his raised knees.

“What is it?” Ronnie asks.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing.”

 _It’s definitely not nothing_ , Robert thinks but doesn’t say. _I’m going to lose Aaron_.

“Well, since you’re not saying anything, let me do the talking."Ronnie sits down next to Robert on the floor. "After I came out in the Eighties, people left and right wanted nothing more than to discredit me, discredit my success. I wasn’t even an active fencer anymore, but still people were ready to maul me, even though I had medals to prove my success, that it was legit."

He gestured wildy with his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "I could barely leave the house without being called homophobic slurs when they weren’t calling me a fraud. But you know what made it better?”

He pauses, pokes Robert in the side with his elbow. “I had people behind me that supported me. I had my family and friends who were rocks in that time. But refusing to talk about it is isolating. You build bridges to other people when you talk to them.”

The first thought Robert has is asking Ronnie about why and how he came out but the thought along sends uncomfortable heat through his chest. Robert lets his head hang between his shoulders, his fingers gripping onto each other so he doesn’t lose his balance.

“I just…” He swallows. “I am in a situation I don’t want to be in and I don’t think I can get out of it.”

“What situation?”

Robert looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, saying nothing, and Ronnie sighs. He takes a moment before he speaks.

“I’ve been training you since you were fifteen and I never once breathed a word to anyone about whatever goes on in here. You can trust me, Robert. I’m here if you want me to be.”

Robert looks at him, sees the sincerity in his eyes. It reminds him of Aaron’s and he quickly looks away again. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Bottling up doesn’t help. It only makes things worse. Remember that.”

 

+++

 

“So, you are alive then?”

“Yeah,” Robert says, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s middle and burrying his face against Aaron’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Aaron’s arms around him are warm and secure, and Robert lets out a content sigh when Aaron tightens his hold around Robert. “You alright?”

“It’s just been a mad couple of days without you.”

He hears Aaron huff a laugh before he pulls away and gives Robert a peck on the lips.

“Next time just answer my text, yeah?”

Robert smiles a genuine smile for the first time in days. “I will. Might even just call you.”

“No, you won’t,” Aaron says, face irritated. Robert laughs, then kisses the frown off Aaron’s lips.

“So how is your sister?”

“Good, yeah. It was good to see her.”

There’s a question whirring in the back of Robert’s head, but he’s not sure if he should ask or not, if he should ask now or later. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Asking would be selfish, he thinks, but at the same time he wants to know the answer with a feeling of both dread and curiosity. 

“I didn’t tell her about us, if that’s what you wanna ask.”

“You didn’t?”

“No." Aaron looks at him as if he understands and Robert doesn't know what to do with it. "She knows there’s someone, but not that it’s you.”

Robert nods, unsure how to feel. It must show on his face because Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, eyes caring and soft.

“Do you wanna go look if that Porsche I told you about is still there?”

It’s a blatant attempt at cheering Robert up and it absolutely works. He laughs and feels the warmth of Aaron's hands seeping into his shoulder. 

“Maybe we can finally find out if it’s a 944 or a 924.”

“Maybe,” Aaron concedes.

They leave the office of the garage, the garage itself, then walk to the parking deck. Robert watches Aaron, drinks in all the details and looks if he can find any differences to before. It’s been barely a week since Aaron went to Dublin but to Robert it had felt like a lifetime. Robert watches the pink of Aaron’s lips move when he talks, the beard that’s slightly longer than before and Robert wants to test if that would make the beard burn on his skin better or worse.

“Robert?”

He chides himself when he realises that he hasn’t been paying attention to what Aaron was saying. “Yeah?”

“You sure you’re alright?”

_Bottling up doesn’t help. It only makes things worse._

He could talk to Aaron. He should talk to Aaron. And he even likes talking to Aaron more than talking to anyone else. But he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He’s not ready to lose this, not ready to lose them.

“Yeah, fine. Just glad you’re back.”

Robert exhales shakily into the kiss and holds on to Aaron tightly.

 

+++

 

Even though there’s a table between them, they’re close enough that Robert can smell her perfume, the flowery scent decent but still spreading through the room uninvited.

“Well, what exactly is it a prince like you does all day then?”

Robert swirls his wine glass, watches the liquid splash around. “It’s representative work mostly. Maintaining diplomatic relationships, visiting charities, attending state dinners.”

She looks him up and down, raising and eyebrow appreciatively and takes a sip of her glass of white wine. “Sounds interesting.”

“Do I hear a hint of sarcasm in there?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Robert is surprised to find that he half means the small laugh that falls through his lips. Usually, these dates leave the muscles in his face hurting with how much he’s pretending to enjoy himself.

“What about politics?” Chrissie asks

“That’s the King’s business. My father is the one that’s involved in that side of things. He deals with the council, attends parliament meetings once a month, that sort of thing. I only attend certain meetings throughout the year.”

“You have something to look forward to when you’re king then. That sounds a lot more interesting.”

“It is,” Robert is surprised to admit that he agrees with her.

Before he can speak again, there are three rapid knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Robert calls and when Chrissie turns her head to see who’s entering the room, Robert lets himself relax for a second and sigh a relieved breath.

“Excuse me Your Highness,” Leyla says, “but there’s an urgent matter you need to attend to. I’m afraid you’re going to have to cut this short.”

“An urgent matter?” Chrissie says, clearly amused. “Maybe your days are more exciting than I thought, after all.”

The sarcasm in her voice is thicker than molasses. Robert appreciates it more than he would admit. He stands up, walks around the table and pushes it back while Chrissie stands up.

Together, the three of them leave the room. Outside, Leyla walks three steps until she stops, presumably to give them some space, Robert thinks. Robert wants to tell her that she shouldn’t have bothered.

Robert extends his hand and Chrissie shakes it, then uses it to pull him closes, leans forward and kisses him once on each cheek. Her perfume blows in his face and it’s all he can smell, drowns in it. The smell isn’t exactly unpleasant but simply unappealing. He lets go of her hand.

“The guard will show you out,” he tells her and doesn’t wait until she’s gone to leave himself.

Leyla’s urgent matter isn’t entirely untrue, but it’s simply a call to his father’s study – as much as those can be called simple.

This time when Robert enters his father’s study, Jack offers him to sit down

“What did you think of Chrissie White?”

He waits a beat before he answers. “Since when are you interested in my opinion?”

Jack’s eyes snap towards him, cold and cutting. “Less of the cheek, son.”

Robert raises his palms in defeat.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Robert has made it a habit to forget about the women as quickly as possible after the door closes behind them. Talking about one of them now, even if he only just told her goodbye ten minutes ago, feels like making promises you know you can’t keep.

“I can see why you would choose her. She seems … smart. Witty. Good-looking.”

The smile that spreads on his father’s lips after Robert finishes speaking, does nothing to calm the foreboding in his chest.

“Let’s set a date then. How about an autumn wedding?”

A cold shiver runs from the back of his head down to his wrists and ankles. “What?”

“You seem to agree that she would make an adequate queen and she’s not ugly.”

“If that’s the only criteria then I could be marrying any of them, dad.”

“What if I told you that Miss White is the one that’s best suited for the job?”

Realisation suddenly dawns on him and he can’t believe he didn’t see it earlier. “That’s why she was the last, wasn’t she? You want me to marry her out of all of them?”

His father doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at Robert, and it’s answer enough. Anger cooks up inside of him again. Robert doesn’t think he’s ever been as angry as he’s been the last week.

“I don’t believe this.” Robert stands up. “So what, the others were just alibis? A little bit of entertainment for me before you _again_ make a decision for me?”

“I’m making a decision for the good of the country, Robert.”

“A decision which directly affects me and nobody else!” His heart is beating against the inside of his ribcage, loud and alarming. “Why do you always do this? All my life I’ve done what you wanted and -"

“I didn’t want you to spend the half of your twenties either drunk at some party or sleeping with one slag after the other, but you still did.”

“I was a teenager, dad! You made me spend my entire life in the public eye including my childhood! Remember when I almost got kidnapped when I was five years old, dad? Five. So excuse me for wanting out and going off the rails." He lets his arm drop. "But I’ve stopped, didn’t I? I got my act together. Or does that not count since I’m not Andy and he’s done a lot of worse things but he’s still everybody’s favourite?”

“Don’t patronise me, Robert, I’m warning you!”

Jack’s voice was so loud that it rings in the air after he finishes speaking. There’s anger on his father’s face, anger Robert knows well, and it should feel like an achievement because that’s how he’s been feeling this entire time, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps.  

“You’re getting married to Miss White in the autumn. End of discussion.”

Robert should be surprised that his father isn’t letting him have the last word, but he is. There’s a finality in his words, that Robert has learned he can’t argue against.

Dread wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes.

 

+++

 

There has just been one moment in his life where Robert thought about being engaged. It had been the night of the masquerade ball and in his imagination, it was the exact opposite of how the reality turned out to be.

He imagined happiness, giddiness maybe, even excitement and love. Kisses under the blanket, touches full of promises and trust, laughter breathing life into his lungs.

He didn’t think he’d spend his first night as an engaged man unable to sleep, in a cold bed, desperately missing someone else.

 

+++

 

Once again, Robert finds that sneaking out of his own quarters and getting out of the palace entirely is a lot easier than this. The part of the palace that is reserved for staff and their family members is always busier than most other parts and it’s a game of hide and run to weave your way through it. The prince being seen in the heart of the staff quarters is bound to be gossiping material and Robert can’t afford it.

He unerringly finds Aaron’s door and not for the first time is he grateful that the door to it is right behind a column and hidden from view from one side at least. He knocks on the door twice, pauses, knocks three times, so Aaron knows it’s him, and waits.

In his head, Robert managed to count until 38 until the door opens. Robert doesn’t see Aaron at first but as soon as he’s inside, he sees that Aaron was standing behind the door. He barely acknowledges Robert with a glance and closes the door again. When Aaron turns around again, facing the room, Robert doesn’t let him get very far, pushing him back against the door, bodies pressing against each other, and finally their lips crash together.

Aaron makes a noise in his throat as he pulls Robert closer, faster, desperate. His arms wrap around his shoulders, almost hanging onto him. Robert holds him tighter. Aaron breaks away with a gasp and leans his head back, eyes squeezed shut, throat on display. Robert slows it down as he breathes him in.

“God, you smell so good.” He kisses Aaron’s neck.

“Wait, Robert, stop.”

It hits him like a gust of cold wind and Robert disentangles himself from Aaron as quickly as possible, surprise and worry warring inside of him, but neither wins the upper hand.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

Aaron doesn’t stay in place but walks towards the bed at the other end of the room.

“I can’t do this,” Aaron says, sitting down, pressing the heels of his hands on his eyes.

“Do what?”

Aaron stays still, quiet.

“Aaron, what’s wrong?”

He takes his hands away, blinking rapidly. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re getting married.”

Robert eyes burn without his permission and his blood rushes along under his skin, reminding him of the anger, the frustration, the shame. He doesn’t know where to start.

“Aaron, it’s not what-“

“Don’t you dare,” Aaron says through clenched teeth. He stands up slowly. “Don’t you dare lie to me. I heard Leyla and Tracy talking. You’re not getting out of this one.”

There are tears swimming in Aaron’s eyes and it’s only a matter of seconds before they fall. His fists are clenched at his sides, body tense from head to toe. To see the physical manifestation of his emotions is almost worse than his words.

“I wasn’t trying to get out of it. You’re right. I am getting married.”

At Robert’s words it’s like the fight flees out of Aaron’s body and he sags, becomes smaller right in front of Robert’s eyes. “I knew it.”

“I’m not finished.”

Aaron looks up at him, one corner of his mouth rising in an unbelieving laugh. “Oh, so is this the part where you give me a bunch of excuses, yeah?”

“Not excuses, no, but reasons.”

“Save your breath, Robert. I’m done.”

“Do you really think I _want_ to get married?” Robert asks, voice rising. “Because I really don’t, Aaron. I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.”

Aaron looks at him, his eyes searching over Robert’s face, pausing. “What d’you mean?”

“My father made it quite clear that he wants an heir as soon as possible so the future of the kingdom is secure. It’s his idea of his legacy, I guess. And what better way than to make his son marry some stranger he’s only met once before so they can pop out some kids and continue the Sugden bloodline, ey?” His voice sounds dark and bitter even to his own ears.

“Is that the truth?”

The burning in his eyes flares up and Robert blinks the tears away. Aaron has every right to question his truthfulness but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

“Yeah.” Robert looks at him, and he can’t blink fast enough anymore. “I don’t want to get married. Not to her. I really don’t.”

He presses his thumbs against his eyes, trying to keep his emotions together. Aaron shouldn’t see this, but he’s also the only one Robert can talk to about this. He can't decide if it's a relief to finally say it or if it makes everything even worse, even more real. 

“What about Andy’s kids?”

Robert opens his eyes and rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “They’re illegitimate heirs since Andy isn’t in the succession to the throne. It’s a birth right and he wasn’t born into this family.”

His head aches with all the events of the past two weeks and for the first time he realises just how tired he is. He’s not been sleeping well ever since Jack first talked about marriage and it’s seeped into his body in a way that he can’t just brush off anymore. He sits down on the patch of floor in front of Aaron’s bed, next to where Aaron is standing and leans against the mattress, closing his eyes.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there until Aaron joins him. Time blurs even more then as they sit there in silence because they’re at an impasse that seems impossible to overcome. Robert clings to the fact that Aaron hasn’t asked him to go, at least not yet, while he once again goes over the events of the last two weeks and once again searches for a solution where Aaron is part of the equation.

“What are you going to do?” Aaron asks quietly, voice raw.

“Nothing I can do. At least nothing I could think of so far.”

“So you’re just letting him do this to you?”

“He’s my dad, Aaron. And he’s the King. I have no choice.”

He only feels the tear that suddenly escapes him when it’s halfway down his cheek. He blinks for a long moment, wills it away. Not here, not now. Not ever.

Aaron exhales in a huff. Robert knows the feeling. He hunches his shoulders and wills the tension in his muscles away as a headache crawls its way up his neck.

“I guess that’s it then,” Aaron says, barely a whisper. “We’re done.”

The words are an entirely new shock to the system, heavier than before. His heart skips a beat, then continues in twice the speed than before.

“No. Aaron, please no.”

He shrugs slowly, palms outstretched. “What am I supposed to do, Robert? What?”

“We can just keep going. Pretend nothing’s changed.”

“What?”

“Nobody has to know. It’s been working well so far, hasn’t it? We can just keep going-“

“No, Robert. I’m not doing that, I’m not going to be your piece on the side your whole life. You can’t ask that of me.” Aaron gets up off the floor, stands there with his back to Robert. “We need to end this.”

He practically jumps off the floor of Aaron’s room, walks around him so he can look at him, resting one hand on Aaron’s upper arm, but Aaron shrugs it off.

“No, no, Aaron we can fix this we can –“ He looks around the room as if the answer to his problems would be written there somewhere. “Tell me what to do to make this okay, tell me how to fix it.”

Aaron shrugs, another tear rolling down his face. “You can’t. It’s too late.”

“I love you,” Robert whispers, not because it’s a secret, but because his voice is halfway down his throat.

“Yeah, and I love you too,” Aaron says. “But I’m not the person you’re going to marry. I’m not going to – to be the one next to you and be be your husband and be co-king or what. It’s not me. It can’t be me.”

Robert takes a step closer to him, their foreheads touching.

“I wish it was you,” Robert whispers against Aaron’s lips. “Every day, I wish it could be you.”

Aaron nods. “Please just go, Robert.”

Robert presses his eyes closed, tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes, and after a moment, he finally breaks away from Aaron. He takes a step back and stops. He knows he should go, should let Aaron go but he’s nothing but selfish and steals another moment in Aaron’s presence.

Aaron’s eyes are piercing into Robert’s, a kind of look that makes Robert feel like he’s naked, bare, there for Aaron to read and gauge in seconds. It should be disconcerting, but it’s Aaron, so it’s not.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

“I know you are.”

He wants to tell Aaron that he loves him again, just one more time, but he feels like he doesn’t get to. Instead, he hopes Aaron can see it in his eyes, and looks and looks. He knows he’s going to be overstaying his welcome very soon, but he can’t bring himself to go. He should, he knows, but he doesn’t want to.

Aaron just keeps looking at him. There’s a smallest flicker of hope sparking in the turmoil of feelings in his chest that maybe Aaron doesn’t want to say goodbye either. But then he raises his eyebrows, nods towards the door and the flicker dies as quickly as it came. It takes him a second to make himself turn away and leave the room. Leave Aaron.

Robert knows what it is like to have silk in the palm of his hands only for it to slip through his clumsy fingers. You can never get it back even if you scrabble desperately after it, clawing and scratching until there is nothing but blood under your fingernails. He desperately hoped that Aaron wouldn’t be one of those things, but here he is now, staring at the closed door, a barrier between all he wants and all he has. He should have known that these two just can’t mix when it comes to him. He should have known.

 

+++

 

The sound of a spoon hitting the walls of a cup clings from the kitchen and Robert frowns at the way it reverberates inside his head like a ping pong ball, echoing and only getting louder.

“So,” Vic says, walking into the living room and putting the cup down on the coffee table in front of him. “What are your plans for today?”

“Nurse this hangover.”

“Oh, what did you celebrate last night? Early wedding bash, was it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Isn’t that what you do before, during, and after a wedding? You celebrate.”

“I’ve got nothing to celebrate.”

Victoria pauses. “Why not?”

“That’s really none of your business.” He takes a sip of his tea. It’s too sweet. He puts it down again.

“I’m your sister. Of course it does.”

“It really doesn’t,” Robert says, laughing self-deprecatingly. “You should keep your nose out, it’s better for both of us.”

“Excuse you, Robert. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Then maybe you should just leave me alone.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but doesn’t. She unfolds her legs and puts her feet on the floor, leans forward so she’s closer to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Vic says, irritation on her face. “Robert, the last couple of days you’ve been in a right mood and doesn’t seem to get better. You’re getting married soon, doesn’t that cheer you up?”

He scoffs and tries to keep the disdain from spreading all over his face. Judging from Vic’s expression, he doesn’t quite manage to do it. She looks softer, less offended and more worried.

“Robert, are you alright?”

Her tone is warm, a complete reverse to seconds before. She sounds sincere, looks at him with big imploring eyes and it hits him suddenly, overwhelms him and he can’t take it. He gets out of his seat, tea forgotten, and leaves the living room.

“Robert? Robert!” Vic calls out after him, but he doesn’t stop until he’s in his quarters, locking the door behind him, and sliding down on the floor.

 

+++

 

People often say that in times of turmoil, you start to appreciate the little things. Poetic and whimsical notions like the sound of birds, sunsets, or the colours of flowers. Robert supposes they’re right.

He’s sitting on a stool in the kitchen at half twelve at night, metallic surfaces of the canteen kitchen shining in the light of the buzzing lamp, and he thinks he’s never been more grateful for the fact that Marlon’s cottage pie taste almost like his mum’s, than he is right now. Robert had felt a light sting of guilt that he made the chef come back just so he could make Robert’s favourite food in the middle of the night. Robert had let him complain the entire time he was cooking without saying anything and had given Marlon a hefty tip before he’d left. It had stopped Marlon’s tirade against unfair working conditions.

It’s the first time in the last few days that he feels almost okay again, determined to just exist for a moment without thinking of the world outside of the kitchen walls, enjoy the food, and maybe mourn the fact that it wasn’t his mum that made it. He thinks about her a lot these days. Wonders what she would have to tell him, wonders if he would have told her about Aaron.

The swinging doors of the kitchen are pushed open with a bang that startles Robert. It’s Aaron, because of course it is. He stops in his tracks and they both look at each other like two deer caught in headlights.

“Aaron,” Robert manages to get out eventually.

The words break the moment between them. Aaron’s face turns into an unimpressed mask, cold, impassive. It’s worse than the heartbreak of the last time they saw each other.

“Your Highness,” Aaron says, even bows his head for a second, before he walks towards the glass door of the pantry.

Robert’s eyes follow Aaron’s path, a lump in his throat, because even when they hadn’t started seeing each other yet Aaron had always called him Robert, always ignoring the proper etiquette. His lungs feel tight and constricting, an elephant standing on Robert’s chest. It takes a moment until he realises that he stopped breathing and he inhales like a drowning man coming up for air.

Aaron comes back with a bag of toast, butter, ham, tomatoes and lettuce, setting them down carelessly on the other side of the counter that Robert is sitting at. He starts getting to work without a word or look at Robert and starts assembling his sandwich.

“Aaron?”

He finally throws a glance that only lasts a second and he looks angry, a warning for Robert not to say more. But there are so many things Robert wants to say. He wants to know how Aaron’s been, wants to tell him that he’s miserable without him and that he still doesn’t know what to do and he desperately wishes he did. He holds his tongue and picks up his spoon and continues eating his food.

Aaron looks tense the entire time, as if he would rather be anywhere else. The thought is yet another sting in his chest.

“I can leave if you want to,” Robert says after a moment.

“I don’t care what you do,” Aaron replies.

“I miss you.”

“Let’s not do this, Robert.”

When Aaron looks up from what he’s doing, the impassive mask from before is gone, and Robert can see that his eyelids are slightly red and irritated, eyebags deep and purple. It’s enough that his words get stuck in his throat and it doesn’t go when Robert tries to swallow it away.

“I’m sorry,” is all that Robert says.

Aaron nods at him, grabs a plate for his food and leaves without another word.

 

+++

 

His heart is beating fast and hard enough that Robert can hear the blood rushing through his ears. He has to remind himself to breathe and when he does, it feels like there is not enough oxygen in the whole world to satisfy his lungs. He’s standing in front of Aaron’s room once again, only this time instead of feeling the earth shatter beneath his feet, he feels nervous, even hopeful, expectant. He raises his fist, ready to knock, then lets it fall again. This could really go either way and Robert doesn’t know if he’s prepared for it going the bad way. He blinks slowly, takes a breath that does nothing to calm his nerves and knocks, one, two -

His third knock never sounds because then there’s Aaron in the open door, looking just as surprised as Robert feels.

“Marry me,” Robert blurts out and immediately regrets it. That’s not how he was planning on going about this.

Aaron looks as if his heart just dropped to the pit of his stomach before jumping up to lodge itself in his throat. His eyes widen, eyebrows raised high on his forehead, jaw slack, and his hand gripping the door.

“What?” he croaks, as if he’s convinced that he heard Robert wrong. Aaron hasn’t.

“God, I’m going about this all wrong,” Robert says, doesn’t wait for Aaron to let him in, but pushes past Aaron into his room, and paces up and down. Aaron opens his mouth to speak, and closes it again. Robert supposes he’s blown it already so he might as well explain himself.

“I can’t get married to Chrissie if I’m already married to you. Polygamy is still illegal in this country the last I checked. It’s the perfect solution.”

“The perfect solution?” Aaron says, hands on his hips, anger flying off him. “So, I’m a convenient solution to your problem now, am I?”

“That’s not what I meant, I-“

“How did you mean it then, Robert? Or did you not think let’s just ask stupid little Aaron if he wants to marry me so I don’t have to do what my father told me to do? He seemed eager enough before!”

“No. Christ, no, Aaron, I didn’t think that.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really, and I can explain if you-“

“No, I need you to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving. Not without letting me explain everything.”

“Save the energy. I’ve listened to enough of your lies.”

“Lies? I’ve never lied to you.”

Aaron laughs incredulously. “I don’t know, but I remember this small matter of _you getting engaged_.”

Robert gaze sinks down on the floor, Aaron’s words a truth he can’t deny. “Yeah. I did lie to you about it. But only because I knew I’d lose you once you knew. I never wanted to lose you, Aaron. Never that.”

Unshed tears collect in Aaron’s eyes. Robert wishes he could wipe them away because that’s not what he wanted.

“We can get married if you want. Just do the paperwork so you can’t get married to her. Cancel the wedding early so the public won’t get suspicious. We don’t even have to see each other we could just get an annulment after a while.”

Robert shakes his head before Aaron stops speaking. “No, Aaron. That’s not why I’m asking. That’s not what I want.”

Aaron looks at him through hooded eyes, gaze intense. Robert continues.

“I’m asking because I want to marry you. I want to be with _you_. Properly.”

“What?”

“I did mean every word I ever said to you, Aaron. I love you. I want to be with you. Officially. From now until the day I die.”

Aaron looks at him skeptically. “Robert, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“I have. I’ve did a lot of thinking these past couple of days.”

“And you’re ready to come out? Not just to your family but to _everyone_?”

Robert presses his lips together. “I don’t care about anyone else. As for my family …”

He thinks of his father, thinks of the anger

“And what if he disowns you?”

“He won’t. I would look bad on him if he disowned me after I come out.”

“But what if?”

“Then he disowns me.”

“Robert!”

“I’m serious, Aaron.” He sits down on the bed. “It doesn’t matter because I never chose this. I never chose to become King, I was born into it and I’ve been told that that’s what I have to do since I was a kid. But that’s not all there is to life.”

“What, so this is your teenage rebellion ten years too late?”

“Oh, I did my rebelling when I was a teenager, believe me,” Robert laughs.

Aaron smiles, sitting down next to Robert on the edge of his bed, sharing the silence, Robert unsure what to do next.

“Do you really think we could do it?”

Robert lifts his hand and lets it hover over Aaron’s, silently asking for permission. Aaron takes it and entwines their fingers.

“I think we could be really happy together,” he admits.

“Ask me then.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Ask me.”

Robert cups Aaron’s cheek, his eyes jumping all over Aaron’s face. “Marry me?”

Aaron kisses him and Robert is shaking to his bones, with his stomach flipping and his heart slamming around. Robert’s arms wrapped around him, his mouth insistent, warming beneath his own. Happiness fills him up to the brim, ridiculous and wonderful. Blocks up his lungs a bit when he breathes in, filling him all up until he was stretched too big.

“Say it,” Robert says against Aaron’s lips.

“Are you-”

“Say it.”

“I can-”

“Say it, or-”

“Yes,” Aaron says. He grins, and Robert can’t keep his own from forming, despite how much it interfered with kissing him. “Definitely yes.”

 

+++

 

The royal family’s security plan says that every royal should have at least two bodyguards with them at all times once they’re outside the grounds of the palace. It’s a rule that’s followed reliably under normal circumstances, but tonight, Robert throws caution into the wind and sneaks out at night without telling anybody.

He’d felt quite cliché as he put on black pants and an old, ratty black hoodie that reminded him too much of Aaron and he’d paused in his movements, half-tempted to smell it even though he knows that it won’t smell like him. Years in the palace have afforded Robert the advantage of knowing when a guard would be patrolling where so he managed to leave the palace grounds with very little trouble.

The palace’s front faces the inner city, which is less clustered than the outer sections of it. The inner city is quite small and always reminds Robert of his university days: bars and nice restaurants and little diners and cafes all mixed together, one or two non-descript clubs residing on the main streets, a large movie theater and the Royal Opera House, tiny ice-cream and yogurt shops, bookstores and movie rental places and grocery stores, and even two main parks. There are apartments in the inner city that aren’t clustered together, but spacious and airy, well-kept and expensive. They always make Robert think that if he wasn’t the prince then that’s where he’d want to live. Up high in a modern apartment, with glass and concrete, hang pictures and live there with someone who’d make it a place to come home to.

The streets are interspersed with trees and plants alongside them due to a city planning act that had been released five or so years ago, requiring more plants and eco-friendly designs. During the winter, they string up lights between the apartments so that they hang over the trees, decorating them with bright ornaments.

The streets are quite busy, people out enjoying the last of the summer, most of them with an ice-cream cone in their hands, talking and smiling. Robert is walking fast, the hood of his hoodie pulled over his head as much as possible, nervous about possibly getting recognised. He does not have the time to spare or the excuses to explain in case it lands at the press, so he pushes on, keeping his gaze down, hand sin his pocket.

When he reaches one of the parks he allows himself to stop for a moment, since it’s quieter here then it was on the streets of the inner city. He stands under one of the street lights, takes his phone out and checks if he’s still on the right route to his destination. Google maps tells him it’s only two more minutes away so Robert starts walking again, eyes flickering back and forth between the screen of his phone and the ground in front of him.

He ends up at one of the small apartment complexes that are characteristic for the inner city, the fairy lights between them already shining even though Christmas is still far away. Maybe they just let them hang there all year round. Looking around, he eventually spots the right house number, and rings the bell to the third floor. It only takes a handful of seconds before the door buzzer sounds and Robert is let in. The elevator ride is short and he pockets his phone when he comes to a stop in front of 3b. He knocks.

Chrissie opens the door of her apartment, strands of her face flying in the whoosh of air rushing in, her eyes first incredulous then stunned, her lips parted.

“Your Highness? What are you doing here?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, but what-“

“I need your help.”

She looks him up and down, eyebrows drawn together, then opens the door further and gestures him inside. Robert looks around one last time to make sure he wasn’t spotted, before he enters.

 

+++

 

The palace is bursting with activity in a way that Robert has never seen before. There are guards and guests and staff hurrying everywhere, making last minute preparations for the wedding of the year. A horde of reporters is standing outside the palace gates, TV-Vans, cameras and microphones lining the driveway into the palace. They’re not allowed inside, as explicitly requested by His Majesty himself. For the first time in a while Robert is thankful to his father for something.

The commotion around him grates on his nerves. Robert has been trying to find a moment to sneak out of the room he’s getting ready in. His reflection in the floor length mirror doesn’t look how he feels. In the mirror, there’s someone confident, someone cocky, someone self-assured. The discrepancy between what he sees and what he feels unnerves him.

“If I go find Frank and Tracy for a minute, will you promise me to stay in this room?” Leyla asks, staring at her phone, pointing at him with her index finger.

“Where would I go?”

“I don’t know, you always manage to find somewhere.”

“I won’t, Leyla.” He almost feels bad about the blatant lie.

“Alright then,” she says and looks up, “I’ll be right back.”

By some miracle, the hallway outside isn’t swarmed with strangers. He looks in either direction before he hurries along the corridor, one, two, three doors and stop in front of the fourth one. He knocks and opens the door without waiting for a response.

Chrissie looks show-stopping in her white dress, low cut at the back, the dress beginning just where her hair ends. She’s standing in front of one of the biggest mirrors Robert has ever seen, putting ear rings on, and meets his eyes in the reflection.

“There you are,” she says, tuning around. “It’s about time.”

“Sorry about that. I’ve had a busy day so far.”

“I can imagine. My family was doing my head in and they’re only three people. It’s probably worse for you.”

“Where are they?”

“I sent them downstairs to find their seats.”

Robert nods, looks at his watch. Chrissie steps closer. “You look handsome.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, are you ready to put on a show?”

Robert smirks but it slips into a nervous smile. “Thanks for going through with it, Chrissie. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“You’ve thanked me once, Robert, and that was enough. Who doesn’t like a bit of good drama.” She walks over to the dressing table, picking something up. “Besides, the future king owing you a favour can only be a good thing, right?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Luck really is on his side today because the hallway is once again empty and Leyla isn’t back yet when he enters the room.

The last hour before he has to walk down the aisle of the ballroom in the palace pass him in a blur of people and questions and answers. Later he realises he doesn’t remember a single conversation. It doesn’t matter because what he does remember is walking down the middle of the ballroom, chairs left and right, facing the dais in the back. They removed the thrones for the occasion and pushed them against the other walls.

Andy is already standing on the dais, talking to the priest, visibly holding the box with the rings in his hands. He smiles when he sees Robert approaching and turns towards him.

“Ready to get married, Robert?”

Robert feels the heart beating in his chest, feels his skin buzz, feels his stomach flip. “Yeah, I am.”

“I saw Chrissie earlier. She looks great, try not to drool when you see her.”

Robert laughs at the weak attempt at a joke and turns to look at the room. It’s decorated similarly to the masquerade ball, lanterns on the wall, chandeliers shining bright, the emblem tapestry hanging above the dais. Jack is sitting on the right side of the room, his hands lying in his lap, looking reasonably content considering this is exactly what he wanted. Diane is sitting next to him, waving when she sees him looking over to them. Victoria joins her and Robert waves back. He checks his watch once again, then looks around the room. Not long until he ceremony is going to start.

He turns back forward, listens to Andy and the priest make small talk while he waits for his heart to maybe calm down.

“Shall we start?” the priest asks, his voice carrying through the room surprisingly well considering he has no microphone, and the room immediately quiets down.

The wedding march starts playing, loud and determined. Robert rolls his shoulders and tries to relax them, taking a deep breath. Finally, he turns and there she is. She looks even better than she did before. Staidly, she walks down the aisle, looks at people on both sides, flowers in one hand, the other clasped in her father’s. He barely looks at where they’re going, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. When they reach Robert and the dais, he looks at Robert, a smile in his face that’s kind and suspicious at ones and gives Chrissie’s hand into Robert’s. Together they walk up the four steps on top, the priest already smiling at them.

“We’re all come together here in this wonderful palace to celebrate the union of two young people who want to spend the rest of their lives together in holy matrimony. To showcase love in all its forms and shapes.”

The priest raises his palms.

“If any of you has any reasons to contest this wedding, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Robert dares a glance to the guests, to his father, but it’s quiet, even quieter than before.

“Then we can continue.”

The sound of a door opening reaches Robert’s ears and he takes a deep breath. It’s their cue.

Robert mouths a _thank you_ to Chrissie and she smirks at him, clearly amused. She lifts the trail of her dress and takes the four steps down the dais. Murmurs sweep through the room and they only get louder when Aaron takes Chrissie’s place. Robert hears a _what?_ that sticks out because it’s louder than the rest of the murmurs and he tries not to play it any mind. Aaron is standing in front of him, looking nervous and excited and it’s all that matters.

“Rings please.”

Andy hands the rings to the priest and leans over to Robert, whispering an aggressive _what the hell are you doing?_ in his ear before taking his spot again. Robert doesn’t take his eyes off Aaron, lets the words roll off. The priest opens the ring box and takes one of them out and handing it to Robert.

“Your Royal Highness Prince Robert of Emmerdale, do you take Aaron Dingle to be your wedded husband, to love and to hold till death do you part?”

“I do.”

His hands shake as he takes Aaron’s left hand and slowly put the ring on its rightful place on Aaron’s ring finger. His cheeks practically hurt with how much he’s grinning.

The priest hands Aaron the other ring and then it’s his turn.

“Aaron Dingle, do you take His Royal Highness Prince Robert of Emmerdale to be your wedded husband, to love and to hold till death do you part?”

“I do.”

Aaron’s hands are remarkably steady when he puts the ring on. Robert squeezes Aaron’s hand once before he lets go again.

“With these rings, I pronounce you husband and husband.” The priest’s hands point to both of them, a delighted smile on his face. “You may now kiss the groom.”

Robert keeps his eyes on Aaron while they lean in until his eyes go cross-eyed and he closes them. The relief he feels in the kiss is overwhelming and feels like the first ray of warm sunshine after a cold winter. He smiles into it and there’s that happiness welling up inside of him again. The kind he hopes he’s going to carry with him for the rest of his life now.

It’s only when they part again, that Robert realises just how loud the clapping and the cheering in the ballroom is. There are people standing and clapping and Robert can even hear whistling. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees two of the royal photographers taking pictures and it hits him that he doesn’t mind. These pictures are going to be in every paper in the country and he doesn’t care. Not with Aaron’s hand in his and a promise of forever.

Robert risks a look in his father’s direction when he and Aaron walk down the aisle hand in hand. He’s still sitting in his chair, completely still, face red. He can see that he’s clenching his teeth and there’s a vein running prominently over his temple, his fists clenched tightly. He holds on tighter to Aaron’s hand and waves at their guests.

 

+++

 

Robert leads Aaron to the TV room in the west wing because it’s the closest to the ballroom. He opens the door when he hears angry footsteps echoing towards them. It doesn’t take much guessing who it is, Robert thinks, already mourning their short minutes of calm. Where Jack came from this quickly, Robert doesn’t know.

He rushes in the room even before either of them can. Robert closes the door behind Aaron, looks at his father and doesn’t move. They’re essentially staring each other down as Robert tries to gauge just how angry Jack is exactly. It must be bad when he hasn’t begun with all the things he wants to say to Robert.

“Robert?” Aaron asks tentatively. Robert wonders if Aaron actually met Jack before. He doubts it.

“Leave us alone, Dingle.”

“His name is Aaron, you’re going to have to start using it. He’s your son in law now.”

“Oh, you think you are so clever, Robert.” Jack clenches his jaw and Robert watches the muscles twitch. His father turns to Aaron. “What are you still doing here?”

Aaron steps up to Robert’s side, a steady presence next to him. As much as Robert would like to have Aaron here for this, Robert doesn’t think Aaron should be here. He turns to him.

“I used the first room on the right on the first floor of the east wing earlier. Go there and wait for me. It should be open.”

“Robert, are you-“

“Just go.”

Aaron is looking at him reassuringly and Robert almost takes his words back. He holds his tongue and waits until Aaron closes the door behind him as he leaves before he turns back to Jack, crossing his arms.

“Oh, that was just touching,” Jack says sardonically.

“Come one, dad, just say what you want to say. We both know you want to.”

“Don’t patronise me, Robert.”

“You have no idea, what you’ve done, don’t you? This is all just some big joke to you.”

“Believe me it isn’t.”

“It is! Or you wouldn’t have pulled a stunt like this.” Jack is gesturing wildly with his hands, his throat red, veins popping out. “You’ve embarrassed us! All of us! You and me and the entire family! But you don’t care about that. As long as everything goes your way, ey? The rest doesn’t matter.”

“Me?” Robert tilts his head in disbelief. “You just described yourself, dad!”

“The press is going to have a field day with this. Did you think about that? The crown prince of their country is a bloody queen.”

Robert clenches his teeth, trying not to visibly flinch. “Is that what they are going to say or what you are saying?”

“For Christ’s sake, don’t call me one of those homophobic types, I’m not. You know full well that there are still people out there who aren’t accepting on that sort of thing.”

“No, you’re not one of them, you just have a problem with me marrying a man. That’s not the same thing.”

“It isn’t, because you’re my son. I don’t care about what the others do, I care what you do and what you’re doing is wrong.”

“You don’t care about what I’m doing. You only care about how what I do reflects badly on you.”

 “Oh, I’m going to enjoy disowning you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, because disowning me right after I get married to a man is going to go over so well in public, isn’t it? I bet they won't be able to put two and two together.” He unclenches his fist and straightens up, his eyes never leaving his father. “You forget that I’m in the public eyes as you are. Someone could easily overhear me saying that the king is appalled by my choice of partner.”

The muscle in Jack’s jaw twitches, the vein on his temple still prominent, maybe even more than before. A sense of triumph sweeps over Robert. Jack can’t do anything without it reflecting badly in public and he’s just realising it. A smile curls along his lips.

“I’m with the person I want to be with, dad. He makes me happy.”

“That’s all that counts in your book, isn’t it? You’ve always been such a selfish sod.”

“I’ve spend my whole live working and I’m going to spend the rest of my life looking after an entire country. I get to be selfish with my heart, I think.”

He doesn’t know if Jack says more or if he doesn’t because he doesn’t listen. He turns leaves the room and leaves his father to his own devices.

 

+++

 

Aaron is in the room Robert got ready in before the ceremony, just as promised. The room looks exactly like Robert left it. It feels like it shouldn’t.

“You alright?”

Robert pauses, trying to find the most truthful answer to that question. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“How did it go?”

“Like I expected.”

Aaron frowns. “Was it really that bad?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wanna know how you’re feeling, so yeah.”

Robert steps closer to Aaron and gets in his space. “I mostly don’t feel like talking about it, Your Highness.”

Aaron grins, dropping his gaze to the floor, shaking his head lightly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“You’ve got a lifetime to get used to it.”

“I suppose,” Aaron says, looking up.

Their lips meet, soft, tenderly, warm, welcoming. It’s soothing balm on his racing heart and head. He breathes Aaron in, needs him closer, the kiss getting more intense. He lets the knowledge that Aaron and him are now officially tied together seep into his bones, wake his nerves, rush through every blood vessel in his body.

“I love you,” Robert says, barely taking his lips off Aaron’s.

“I love you, too,” Aaron says, just as desperate. Robert breaks their kiss and places his hands on Aaron’s hips, leaning their foreheads together.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Me either,” Aaron whispers.

They enjoy the quiet for a moment, not moving from the position they’re in.

“Don’t we have to go back?”

“Yeah, we should. It’s going to be mayhem out there.”

“Robert, it was your plan. Don’t tell me you didn’t predict this.”

“I didn’t think this far ahead if I’m honest.”

Aaron laughs and after another moment, he breaks free from Robert. Aaron might be right about having to go back but that doesn’t mean Robert wants to. He wants to stay and hide them in this room for the rest of time. He takes a breath and holds that thought for another time. Tomorrow hopefully.

Robert walks towards the door, lays his hand on the door knob and turns his head back towards Aaron.

“Are you ready to face the party?”

“Let’s do it,” Aaron says. Together, they make their way back. Ready to face the questions and the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a #trip to write. Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought!
> 
> There are some details about this AU that never made it into the fic, so if you want to know more or simply wanna come say hi, I'm at [softrobertsugden.tumblr.com](http://softrobertsugden.tumblr.com).


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